Not Just A Flesh Wound
by SupernaturalFanPerson
Summary: When 15 year old Sam is almost fatally shot, the physical pain is tremendous. But Dean is worried about what happened the night of the shooting to cause Sam's growing depression. Plenty of Limp!Sam and Protective!Dean. Sam is 15, Dean's 19.
1. Chapter 1

**I've been wanting to write a limp!Sam for a while now and I finally got around to it. I hope this first chapter meets your standards. The next chapters will be much... limpier? Bloodier? Either way, I'm just getting started. :)**

**Disclaimer:**** Sadly, no. :(**

Sam grimaced as they hit a bump in the parking garage. "Sorry, Sammy!" Came Dean's over apologetic voice. "Whatever." Sam grumbled. He wasn't mad at Dean. How could he? He had saved his life. He couldn't thank his brother enough, didn't even deserve to ask about getting out of the damn wheelchair.

They were almost to the Impala and Dean stopped the wheelchair. He knew the only reason the fifteen year old had agreed to assistance was the promise of no more nurses or hospital gowns.

He opened the door to the Impala proudly and watched Sam's expression.

"Dean..." Sam said in amazement at the stolen hospital sheets and pillows that adorned the passenger seat. "You didn't have to do this."

"Aw, 'course I did, kiddo." Dean answered. "Let's do this slowly." Sam gripped Dean's arm to pull himself up. He shuffled slowly and painfully towards the open door with his big brother taking all the weight silently. He let out a relieved puff of air as he sat on the makeshift bed. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean gently closed the door and walked over to his side of the car.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked nervously as Dean turned the key. He flinched at the touchy subject. Sam hadn't seen or talked to Dad since that day at the hospital a week ago. Since then he had just sent Dean with whatever Sam needed.

"He's at Bobby's." He answered, snapping out of the memory and seeing Sam's anxious expression. He saw the kid's face light up for the first time in what seemed like forever at the mention of Bobby's and hated to disappoint him.

"Sorry, Sammy. Bobby's not there. He said we could use his place though. He also said 'You break it, you buy it.'"

His lame attempt at making his brother laugh only earned him a polite half smile from Sam before he frowned again, staring out the window at nothing for the rest of the ride.

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Sam, wake up! Dad's here to see you!" Sam slowly opened his eyes to see Dean staring at him expectantly. __He started to sit up, but winced in pain. "Hey, man, don't even try it." Instead, Dean pushed a button and the bed whirred as it mechanically moved him into a sitting position._

_"D'd you get 'ny sleep?" Sam asked groggily. He studied his brother's face._

_"Not with your ugly face haunting my dreams." Dean joked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Not funny." He looked up to see John standing in the doorway. "Dean, go get yourself some caffeine," He ordered tiredly. "You look terrible." Dean grumbled about leaving Sam alone but complied. "Yes, sir."_

_John entered the room and sat in the chair Dean had just left. "How ya feelin' buddy?" He asked, putting his hand on his son's shoulder._

_"Good, sir."_

_John nodded and sighed. "What's wrong?" Sam asked worriedly._

_"Nothing, it's just... I worry about you, Sammy." He looked down as he spoke. "Your not like your brother. He's a natural hunter. You keep fooling around and getting hurt!"_

_"I wasn't foo-"_

_"No!" John was getting angry. "No. You need to pay more attention when you're alone!"_

_"I didn't kn-"_

_"You could get Dean killed! Or yourself! Hell, you almost did!"_

_"I'm so-"_

_"NO!" Sam jumped as his father slammed his hand down on the bed._

_John looked ashamed of himself as he saw the tearful look in Sam's eyes. Standing up abruptly, he pushed passed Dean, who was walking back, coffee in hand._

_The older boy looked back at his father stalking away before approaching Sam._

"What happened?" He asked, alerted by Sam's threateningly moist eyes. Dean was startled as his brother pulled him into a hug. Sam cursed himself as a single tear fell.

_"Dad." He whispered._

**..ooOOoo..**

The car jolted to a halt and Sam was startled awake by the sudden feeling of pain he so elusively avoided in unconsciousness.

"Sorry!" Dean said again, though they both knew it wasn't his fault.

"'s okay. We here?" Sam asked groggily.

"Yep," Dean stood up. "Hold up!" He added as Sam attempted to stand up, a whimper ghosting past his lips. Dean quickly joined Sam, who grabbed his shirt to keep from face planting into the ground.

He leaned confidently onto his brother as they slowly walked towards the front door.

Sam yelped as he tripped over the front step, falling to his knees. "Sam! You okay?" The younger brother nodded, but didn't respond, not trusting his voice. Using Dean for support, he got back up and the brothers made the last painstaking steps in and onto the couch.

"I'm gonna get you some of those painkillers the doc prescribed." Dean explained, walking into the kitchen. He returned to an anxiously waiting Sam with pills but no water. Chiding himself for the stupidity, he walked quickly back into the kitchen. The clinking of glasses masked the sound of footsteps on the creaking stairs and Dean was surprised to walk back in on Sam, staring intently at their dad.

Neither took their eyes off the other when Dean entered the room.

"Dad? Can I talk to you?" Dean asked through gritted teeth, handing the water to Sam. John nodded solemnly and began to walk up the rickety stairs, Dean following close behind.

"Dad! We've talked about this!" Dean erupted when they were out of Sam's earshot.

"Don't take that tone with me!" John admonished, though he knew how protective Dean would be over anything related to his younger brother.

"Have you seen him?" Dean hissed. "He's beating himself up about this! He won't start to get better until you guys resolve this!"

"I know, I can tell it's troubling him but I don't want to explode again. But you're right."

Dean nodded in approval, surprised his father agreed so quickly. They had talked about this a lot but his dad had never looked so defeated. But then again, he hadn't seen how torn up Sam was about it. Dean opened his mouth to agree when he heard Sam's shriek of pain.

**Hope you liked it! R & R! Constructive criticism always welcome.**

**P.S. Did anyone else send rubber ducks to J2 in Vancouver?**


	2. Chapter 2: Hurting

**Here's the next chapter! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Please excuse my extensive use of "Sammy," it's hard to avoid when writing Protective!Dean. )**

"Sammy!" Dean cried, running downstairs. He froze at the sight of Sam face down on the floor, unable to get himself back up. He quickly and carefully helped his brother up and back onto the couch before pulling up his shirt to assess the wound.

"Dude..." Dean complained, more to himself for not being there than to anyone.

Never letting go of Sam, he reached out and grabbed a towel, considering himself lucky it was so close.

He turned back to Sam and saw the blood blossoming on the bandages. Sam hissed in pain as Dean unwrapped them.

"It's not as bad as I thought." He assured his brother. As painlessly as possible, he cleaned the wound.

It seemed Sam's body had twisted as he fell. Poor kid, he hadn't moved that much that quickly since.. well, since before the injury.

He dabbed at the blood that had appeared on his brother's chest as he'd fallen.

"You didn't break the stitches." He announced, relieved. Though he could've stitched it himself, he really didn't want to put Sam in any more pain right now.

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Dad! Hurry up! I'm going in to see Sam!" Dean shouted as he ran across the empty motel parking lot._

_"Ask him if he got any research done!" John ordered from the Impala. "I'm going across the street for a beer!"_

_Dean jiggled the key and bounced into the room. His dad always said he acted like it'd been weeks since he'd seen his brother, even if it'd only been hours._

_But the sight he saw wasn't Sam grinning up at him from the laptop or running towards him for a big hug. It was Sam lying on his back- surrounded in blood._

_"SAM!" Dean shrieked in pure agony, dropping to his brother's side. "Sammy." He unbuttoned his top shirt and tried to find the source of the blood. Oh god, it was everywhere._

_"D'n." Sam looked up at his brother, blood speckled on his pale face like freckles and staining his teeth._

_"Sshhh. It's going to be okay. Don't talk." Dean's voice wavered from the usual tone of confidence as he took in the scene in front of him. In one form or another, it had been appearing in his nightmares since Sam was six months old._

_"D'n. 'm bleeding." Sam looked down at his chest, blood soaking through his clothes and pooling around him. He wrinkled his brow in thought and confusion as to why there was so much._

_Dean frantically searched for where all the blood was coming from. How was there was any left in the small, shivering body?_

_There it was! Was that from a bullet? He pressed his shirt against the wound, wincing at Sam's whimpers of pain._

_"Sam! What the hell happened?" Dean muttered frantically. "No- don't answer that. You can tell me when you're better." He put emphasis on the when to keep his hopes up but he couldn't stop the thought from continuously crossing his mind. This could be Sammy's last night..._

_"Oh my god!" A maid was standing in the doorway, her mouth open wide. "I'll call an ambulance!" She dropped the cleaning supplies and ran._

_Dean acted like he didn't hear her. Sam reached up a bloody hand to hold on to his brother, but it slipped to the ground as he lost consciousness._

_"No! Sammy, stay with me!" Dean pleaded with his little brother. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sammy was supposed to grow old with Dean, fight the bad guys together, not die young._

_"Wake up!" Dean pleaded desperately, gently shaking his unconscious brother. Finally, Sam's eyes opened again._

_"Good, good. Good job, Sammy. Stay here now." Sam nodded and tried to talk but ended up coughing. Dean stared in horror at the blood coming out of his little brother's mouth._

**..ooOOoo..**

"Sam, there's something Dad wants to say to you." Dean cleared his throat and not-so-subtly motioned for John to join them.

Cautiously, he walked up to Sam, who winced and sat up to see his father eye to eye.

"Sam, I- uh- I really am sorry. For the fight." Dean nodded for his father to continue.

"I didn't mean anything I said. Honestly, Sammy. Those words... when I'm angry I might as well be possessed. What I'm trying to say, buddy, is... I never want to hurt you. Your my son and I love you the way you are. God knows we don't need two Deans!" Sam grinned.

Dean knew he wouldn't forgive his dad that easy if it were him, but Sam, being the loving person he was, instantly agreed.

"I know." He murmured sleepily, the meds kicking in. John smiled slightly before patting his son on the shoulder.

Leaving the room to give the brothers privacy, he couldn't think of anything but the giant weight that had just been lifted off his shoulders.

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean grabbed a blanket from the bedroom upstairs so Sam didn't have to move. He carefully laid it over his brother, who was drifting in and out of sleep.

"D'n?" Sam slurred, fighting to stay awake to ask his brother one more question.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Whatever he needed, Dean would get it in a second.

"D'you wish I was dead?"

Dean froze. "What?"

"Would evr'thing be easier if I wasn' 'round?" Sam's eyes drooped with exhaustion as he talked, but he was desperate for an answer.

Dean knelt down and looked his brother straight in the eyes as he answered.

"Sammy, if you died, I'd die, too."

**Well? What did you think? Reviews are always welcome and I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible.**


	3. Chapter 3: Secrets

**I'm sorry it took so long to update! I've been very busy lately, but here it is finally! I think I have kept you from this chapter long enough, I won't Ramble On:**

Sam groaned as he got off of the couch where he'd spent the night. Apparently, Dean didn't think he could handle stairs. Although he'd never admit it out loud, Sam didn't think he could either.

He walked painfully and slowly into the kitchen, where Dean was sitting by himself at the table.

"Hey, Sam, how're you feeling?" Dean asked, through a mouthful of breakfast. He looked up worriedly at Sam from his dry cereal. He should've known Bobby wouldn't leave milk.

"Good." Sam mumbled, but Dean knew he was lying as he shuffled into the kitchen gritting his teeth to try to hide the pain.

"Sam..."

"I'm _fine_, okay!" Sam snapped. Dean looked up in surprise.

"Okay..." He muttered. "Cranky." He honestly had no idea what Sam was so upset about. He seemed to be getting better every day.

He eyed his brother as he opened the fridge and leaned on the door as he grabbed a beer.

"Dude, no alcohol remember?" Sam looked sullenly at his brother. Dean sighed. "If the doctors knew you drank at fifteen they'd agree it won't go well with the meds."

Sam knew Dean was only trying to help. Grumbling, he handed the cold beer to his older brother's outstretched hand.

"And you really shouldn't be walking around." Dean admonished gently, taking a swig. "Don't strain yourself."

Sam nodded and made his way back to the couch, where he laid, staring up at the ceiling.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. Sam had been moping around for days. Snapping at everyone.

John had apologized and Sam'd had no problem with it. What else could possibly be bothering him? Being the Best Big Brother In The World, Dean decided to investigate it before anything escalated.

He threw the empty cereal bowl in the sink before joining Sam in the living room, beer in hand.

The kid didn't even look up.

"Sam, we gotta talk." No eye contact.

"What's the matter with you? Is this about Dad?" A shake of the head.

"Is this about the night?" Another shake, but Dean wasn't so sure. "'Cause I'm pretty sure you've left out a few details."

Sam's eyes flashed in frustration as he finally looked at Dean. "I told you everything. Okay? There's nothing else to say!"

Dean nodded, but between his experience with lying and his little brother he easily put two and two together. "Yeah, sure." He said doubtfully.

There was something Sam was keeping from him for some reason and he was determined to find out.

Giving up for now and letting Sam have some well needed rest, Dean went upstairs to tell John what he thought.

He ran his hand along the banister as he walked up the old staircase.

"Dad?" Dean called into the bedroom.

"Dean, we need to talk." John said, joining his oldest in the hallway. "I have to leave."

"Leave? Now? But Sam-"

"Is getting better." John added. "And needs his brother. There's an outbreak of werewolves up north and Bobby's alone and knee-deep in 'em. I'll be back as soon as possible, okay?"

Dean knew better than to argue with his father. "Yes, sir."

John clapped his son on the back. "Good, I need to leave as soon as possible. Go tell your brother."

Dean nodded and obediently went downstairs to tell Sam as John started up the car.

But Sam wasn't on the couch where Dean had last seen him. He was gone. All that was left was the blanket, strewn across the couch carelessly.

"SAM!"

**..ooOOoo..**

_Finally, Sam's eyes opened again._

_"Good, good. Good job, Sammy. Stay here now." Sam nodded and tried to talk but ended up coughing. Dean stared in horror at the blood coming out of his little brother's mouth._

_"It's okay, Sammy, it's not that bad. You'll be fine... okay?" But Sam didn't acknowledge his brother. "Sam?" Nothing._

_"No! No! NO!" Dean screamed in frustration. "SAMMY!" But his little brother wasn't responding, just staring at him with a glassy look in his eyes._

_Dean frantically checked for a heartbeat and found a slow one. Way too slow._

_"Where's the damn ambulance?" He muttered. Looking around, the rest of the room seemed undisturbed. If it wasn't for his dying brother laying on the floor, he would think nothing happened._

_That was a professional's doing._

_Dean sighed as he heard the sirens. Finally!_

_He cradled Sam's head in his arms. "Sammy, if you can hear me, I'm right here. I'm not leaving. Ever." Dean's tears fell freely down his face. He wouldn't even let go of Sam for one second to wipe them away._

_Three people ran in the open door, not hesitating at the sight of a fifteen year old boy bleeding out on the motel room floor._

_"Step away," A woman said, kneeling down next to Sam._

_"No."_

_The woman looked up, but needed to work on the kid more than argue._

_A man joined her and the two started with their equipment._

_"Dave, work on stopping the bleeding. He's lost to much blood. Is he still awake?" The woman that had been ordering Dave looked up at Dean._

_"Oh, I don't know. He wouldn't listen to me but his eyes are open." Dean answered shakily._

_"What's your name?" The woman asked calmly._

_"Dean."_

_"Okay, Dean. We're going to try to help your friend."_

_"Brother." His voice wavered as he corrected her. She looked at him sympathetically._

_"What does he go by?" She asked. Dean couldn't pull his gaze away from the man trying to stop the bleeding._

_"Sammy. Sam." She nodded curtly and turned back to his brother._

_"Sam? Can you hear me?" The boy just stared blankly ahead. She shined a light in his eyes but nothing happened._

_"He not responding." She called to the third medic. "Are we good for trans-"_

_"He's not breathing!" Dave yelled frantically. Everyone began rushing around the room immediately._

_Come on! Come on! This could not be happening. And where was Dad? Out getting a beer? Typical. He was never there when Sammy needed him but now wasn't the time to think about that._

_Dean kept Sam's hand in his as they moved his brother carefully to the ambulance and covered his nose and mouth with a mask to supply him with oxygen._

_He looked for the relieving signs of his brother's chest moving, a sign of life, but there was none._

_"It's not working!" The man said._

_Dean took in a raspy, worried breath as his brother took on a bluish tone, suffocating right before his eyes._

**I apologize for the short chapter. I promise the next one will be longer! Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts! I'll try to update soon.**


	4. Chapter 4: Hospitalized

**Hello! Thanks for all the reviews! :) This chapter's longer because I felt bad for all the short ones I've been doing.**

"SAM!" Dean ran frantically from room to room, searching for his baby brother.

"Sammy!" He couldn't find him anywhere on the first floor.

Frantically, he ran upstairs, too. Dialed Sam's phone but it went straight to voicemail. Screamed his name until he was hoarse. It was useless. He was nowhere.

"Sam." Dean muttered as he shakily dialed his father's number.

"This is John. I can't answer the phone right now but-"

Dammit, Dean thought. Answer the freaking phone, Dad.

He waited impatiently for the beep. "Hey Dad, if you get this... Come back. Sam's gone."

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Still no signs of breathing!" The ambulance was moving now and Dean watched, horrified, as someone shoved a tube down his brother's throat._

_As much as Dean was happy to see the rise and fall of his brother's chest again, it unnerved him that he didn't respond to someone putting things down his gullet._

_Dean only caught a handful of the words being yelled in the ambulance. Most slipped past his head as he focused on Sammy._

_"Respiratory arrest... No signs... Not breathing... Paddles..." Someone cut through Sam's shirt, the scissors barely moving before the paddles were placed._

_"One... Two... Three!" Sam's body arched and Dean was snapped back to reality._

_Subconsciously, he squeezed Sam's hand even harder._

_"No response!" Paddles again._

_"We've got a pulse." Everyone in the ambulance relaxed slightly, but got back to work, politely maneuvering around Dean's hand, unmoving from Sam's limp body._

_Before Dean knew it, the medics were throwing open the doors and unloading the fifteen year old hastily._

_"We need a cleared room!" One was shouting as Dean jogged to keep up with them._

_The man nearest Dean was shouting instructions. "Did Jamie clear the room? Okay, tell Krista we need her."_

_They pushed through a pair of double doors and Dean suddenly felt something holding him back._

_"Stay here." The man was ordering Dean._

_"No!" Dean glared at the man. "He's my brother! He needs me there! Please!" He was yelling and the man was trying to hold him back._

_"You can't come in! I'm sorry, but we can't do the immediate surgery he needs with other people around."_

_"No!" Dean's hands shook as he shouted at the medic, his hurt filled voice reduced to a whisper. "No."_

_"Look, we can't fix Sam with you in there!" The man said urgently. That really got to Dean. Sam always came first and if that was what made him better, than so be it._

_He made an exasperated noise as a nurse came over and guided him to the waiting room._

_"Is there anyone you should call?" He nodded. She went away for a moment and came back with a cell phone._

_"If you need anything, just ask for me, Judith." She smiled sympathetically and left._

_Dean dialed John's number on the third try, his hands shakily pressing the wrong numbers until he finally got it right._

_It rang five times before his father picked up. Dean hear the bar in the background, it sounded like a totally different world. He probably didn't even here the sirens._

_"John." The hunter answered._

_"Dad-"_

_"Dean, this better be important. I'm up a hundred."_

_"Dad... It's Sam."_

_John froze. He knew that voice. This wasn't just a Sam Has A Headache problem. This was serious._

_"Where is he." John's voice got low as he reacted._

_"We're at the Memorial Hospital. On 15th-"_

_"I'm on my way." John hung up and threw his money back in front of the awestruck and confused men across the pool table._

**..ooOOoo..**

_Dean looked up every time someone entered the waiting room. Hoping to see either Sam's doctor or Dad._

_Finally, John arrived, out of breath and searching the room with wild eyes for his son._

_"Dean!" The tired nineteen year old looked up to see the hunter kneeling down before him._

_"What. Happened." It wasn't a question. It was an order._

_"I-I... He..." Dean stumbled on words, still too stunned to put it all together. "The blood... Dad, it was everywhere." Dean looked up at his father, eyes glistening. "He was shot and it was hunters."_

_"Hunters?" John sat down, intrigued, but needed to hear about Sam first. "And Sam?"_

_"Sh-shot." Dean whispered. "The blood... Dad, he... died. In the ambulance. They got his heart going again but..." Dean wasn't one to announce his feelings, especially to his father._

_"I'm scared."_

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean hung up the phone and ran throughout the beat up cars, just in case.

"Sammy!" He called. This could not be happening.

He was about to go inside when he stepped on something.

**_..ooOOoo.._**

_Neither Winchester was expecting the doctor that entered the waiting area to call their name, having gotten so used to being ignored while others got news of their loved ones._

_"Sam's... family?" She looked up and Dean was already halfway across the room while John hurriedly grabbed the paperwork he'd been working on the past hour._

_"I'm Dr. Burling." She said. "I'm sorry. I never got a last n-"_

_"Where is he?" The teen interrupted anxiously._

_"Um, let's wait for your father, okay?" She nodded towards the older man, who was almost caught up to his son._

_Dean impatiently tapped his foot, imagining numerous possibilities, good and bad. All of which could be happening to his little brother right now. And Dean wasn't there._

_Finally, John joined them, papers in hand. "Well?"_

_Dr. Burling sighed. "We should go somewhere more private." She led them into a small separate room. Dean was losing his patience. Finally, she began. "I could tell you what's happened in a bunch of me-"_

_"FOR GOD'S SAKE JUST TELL ME HOW SAM'S DOING!"_

_The doctor and the hunter both stared at Dean. She seemed appalled while John didn't look the least bit surprised._

_"Um... Yeah. Okay, so Sam was shot in the abdomen. Right here." She pointed to the point on her lower body._

_"He suffered massive blood loss. We estimated about twenty to twenty five minutes before you arrived. It's a wonder he stayed awake that whole time." She stopped and took a deep breath before continuing._

_"Because he lost so much blood, he went into hypovolemic shock. Basically, he lost way to much blood. We've given him a blood transfusion already, but he might need more."_

_Dean prayed that was it but there was much more._

_"The actual bullet hit his abdomen, but didn't come back out. It is still in there and may be a cause of further injury if not removed."_

_"You mean surgery?" John asked worriedly. He kept clicking the pen in his hand nervously._

_"Exactly, but most patients come out of something like that perfectly fine. That's not what you should worry about..."_

_Dean couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, what should we be worried about then!"_

_Dr. Burling's face got even more serious, if that was possible. "The head trauma."_

_"The head trauma? What head trauma?" The older brother really didn't care about these things as long as Sammy was okay._

_"The impact from the shot was pretty... severe. At first we thought that was what had caused the injury, but it didn't correspond with the setting of the injury. We think he was beaten."_

_Dean's face paled. "Beaten?" He said weakly. He was going to hunt down those evil sons of bitches..._

_"Yes. Mostly on the head but also on the upper back and neck."_

_John put his head in his hands. "Oh my god, Sammy."_

_"He suffered a particularly bad blow right above the eye. From the outside, it isn't that bad, but the internal damage... There's a part of the eye called the choroid. Supplies blood. Basically, to spare you the medical details, the blood vessels ruptured and caused a blood clot. Something like that usually heals itself. If everything goes alright and it heals properly, good. But if it doesn't... Sam could lose his eyesight."_

_Dean felt weak. "Where. Is. He?" He made each word it's own sentence, the seriousness of the question portrayed on his face._

_"Follow me." She said solemnly._

_John and Dean followed her through numerous hallways before finally stopping outside room 427._

_"He's got the room to himself." Dean pushed past her and straight into the room, John right on his tail._

_Sam was hooked up to every machine in existence. There were small tubes running up his nose, which Dr. Burling explained as being "precautionary." Small beeping noises filled the silence._

_"Sammy." Dean's voice was filled with pain as he sat down in a chair next to his ashen brother. Sam laid peacefully in the bed, his eyes closed as if he were simply sleeping._

_"The surgery will be tomorrow. We need to get it done as quickly as possible. He most likely won't wake up before then, which would minimize the pain..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she was losing the attention of the boy's family, too focused on their sick loved one._

_"I'll leave you alone."_

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Dean. Eat." Dean looked up tiredly as John tried to hand him a bag of food from the cafeteria. The kid hadn't had one bite since he'd pulled up a chair by Sam's bed._

_Now his silent vigil was almost unsettling to John, who was used to Dean dealing with his issue loudly, joking and masking his true feelings. He was a totally different person when Sammy was in trouble._

_John rolled his eyes. Assuring Dean he'd be back in ten at the most, he went down to eat a quick dinner himself._

_Dean sat quietly, one hand on Sam's the other gently moving the hair out of his face, a move Dean wouldn't dare to try if Sam was awake._

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_The quiet noise of the heart monitor began to lull Dean to sleep. His eyes got heavy, but he snapped his head up in refusal to fall asleep, tired as he was. If Sam woke up, he'd be right there waiting._

_Once the surgery was over, Sam would be on his way to recovery, once he woke up. At least that's what the doctor had said._

_..._

_The Winchesters weren't much for trusting doctors, though._

_beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep_

_Dean snapped out of his dream state and immediately noticed the erratic sounds around him. He'd (secretly) watched everything from CSI to Dr. Sexy and if he knew anything, those machines should not be making those noises, screaming at him for attention, for aid._

_Standing up abruptly he kept Sam's hand in his, as if by letting go his greatest nightmare would become a reality._

_"SOMEBODY! HELP! HELP!" He watched as nurses pushed him back, crowding around the sickly Winchester and instantly blocked his view of Sam._

_Please, no. He thought -no, pleaded- desperately to no one in particularly. Take anyone, take me. Just don't take Sammy._

_And then, through all the sounds, Dean focused on the one that made his blood run cold: The singular bland sound as the monitor drew a straight line across the screen._

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome as always. I must say there will be only one more flashback (Gasp!) but that doesn't mean the Hurt!Sam is over...**


	5. Chapter 5: The Call

**Alright, not the longest chapter in the world, but the story's defenitely picking up. I promise to show you the night Sam was shot, so I guess I lied when I said this was the last flashback. Oh well.**

Dean stopped the moment he stepped on the object. He pulled his foot up to see what it was- on Sam's wallet.

He knelt down and picked it up.

"Oh God, Sammy." Dean mumbled to no one in particular. "What's happening?"

**..ooOOoo..**

_"No!" Dean screamed as the nurses tried to get his little brother's heart going._

_But it wasn't working. And Dean couldn't stand that._

_Between the lack of food and the pressure of the past couple days, it was only a matter of time until Dean did the Winchester Unthinkable: He fainted._

_Judith was rushing into the room just as the young man fell, his face pale and his eyes rolling back._

_She caught his head just as it aimed for the floor. That's when she realized who it was- Samuel Winchester's brother. She'd met him the first day he arrived, the poor kid hadn't been doing so well since his brother was hospitalized._

_The other doctors and nurses were fine without her for the moment, but she wasn't sure Dean was going to like what he heard when he woke up. She glanced at the younger boy one more time before turning back to Dean._

**..ooOOoo..**

_Dean was confused. He was used to waking up in a plastic chair next to Sam, not in a bed._

_He sat upright, instantly alert._

_"Dean?" A voice asked shyly from the door. He looked up to see a young nurse standing in the doorway. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and Dean guessed she was probably hot, you know, when she wasn't wearing scrubs._

_He shot out of the bed, still in his jeans and t-shirt, thankfully. "Where's Sam?" He asked seriously, grabbing his jacket from the nightstand._

_"That's what I came for." She began to explain._

_"Is he okay?" Dean knew he couldn't live with himself if Sam had been all alone and... he didn't want to say it. That kid just better be fine._

_"He was dead for seven minutes." She replied. "But you're really lucky. They finally got his heart going again. You, uh, fainted." She blushed as she mentioned it. "He's going into surgery any minute now to get the bullet out. He hasn't woken up, but it's always easier this way."_

_Dean pushed past her and glanced into Sam's room on his way down the hallway. He was almost to the end when he heard a small voice._

_"Dean." He paused. He could've sworn it was..._

_"Dean!" It came again, a little louder, a little happier, and there was no doubt. Dean turned on his heels and jogged to the waiting room. There was Sam, in a portable bed being wheeled into the surgery room._

_"You can see your brother when you get out, okay?" A nurse was trying to gently calm the fifteen year old, but to no avail._

_"Sammy!" Dean called, and he saw the nurses stop and look back at him as he caught up. "Sam! It's okay! Go with the nurses, I'll be here when you get back!" Dean encouraged, despite the voice in his head telling him not to let his brother go so easily._

_Sam was ready to object when the nurse pushed him along again and Dean could see him struggling to go back to his brother as he was rolled through the double doors of the operation room._

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Sam! You need to calm down!" The lady was saying to him. She tried to push him back down until she realized the best way to get through to him was to talk to him, not fight him._

_"Please?"_

_For some reason, Sam complied. Even struggling for so little time seemed strenuous and he listened obediently as the woman handed him a mask and told him to breathe deeply and count to ten._

_Weird, but why not?_

**_One._**

_This was stupid, but the sooner it was over the sooner he got back to Dean._

**_Two._**

_But Dean would ask him questions, about what happened._

**_Three._**

_He didn't want to answer any questions about that night. He just wanted to forget about it._

**_Four._**

_But he knew Dean would insist. He'd want revenge._

**_Five._**

_Why was he still counting? He'd rather sleep._

**_Six._**

_Maybe he'd tell Dean the truth._

**_Seven._**

_He'd tell him all about how they said..._

**_Eight._**

_About how they..._

**_Nine._**

_About..._

**_Ten._**

_"He's unconscious." The nurse announced as Sam's heart beat steadied and his hand and the mask dropped limply to his side._

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean's phone rang and he looked at it hopefully to see his dad responding. But it wasn't. He looked closer at the I.D: Sam.

**..ooOOoo..**

_Dean and John stood abruptly as Dr. Burling entered the waiting room._

_"Sam's fam-" She didn't even have to finish. As she glanced up, they were already coming her way._

_Dean took it as a good sign that the doctor was smiling as she came out._

_"The surgery went well." She explained. "We've got the bullet out. We also examined the clot above his eye we were telling you about. He won't lose eyesight, but for the next week or so he won't be able to see out of that eye very well."_

_Dean sighed. That was much better than what could have happened._

_"When can I see him?" Dean asked eagerly._

_"Right now if you want," Dr. Burling answered. "But the anesthesia won't ware off for a few hours._

_Dean and John were guided to Sam's new room. The older brother was thankful to see much less machines surrounding Sam. His hands were placed awkwardly to his sides._

_"I'll... leave you alone." The doctor said._

_Dean and John both instantly pulled up chairs. They sat there in silence, not sure what to say or how to say it._

_"Thank you." John spoke, breaking the silence._

_Dean looked over at his tired father. "What?"_

_"I said thank you. For watching out for Sammy. Even when I couldn't." John stared at his hands. "I try, Dean. I try to be a good dad, but in this life? I'm afraid that not focusing on keeping up with your skills could get you boys hurt."_

_Dean didn't answer, didn't look up. He wasn't used to his dad opening up to him like they were on some soap opera._

_John sighed and took a deep breath. "So, thanks, Dean. Your a good big brother."_

**()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

_He didn't know when he'd fallen asleep or how Sam's limp hand had ended up in his. He checked the clock. Midnight? Sam should have woken up an hour ago._

_Dean looked over at his father, dead asleep in the chair next to his._

_That's when he felt a twitch- just a twitch at first. But Sam's eyes fluttered and Dean's face lit up with the biggest smile he'd had since he'd gotten his first gun._

_"D'n?" Sam opened his eyes slowly._

_"Yeah, I'm right here. See? I told you I would be." Sam smiled, but coughed, clutching his chest._

_"How do you feel?" Dean grabbed a water and a straw and handed it to his little brother._

_"Craptastic." Sam answered, eagerly grabbing the cup from Dean._

_Dean chuckled. "I missed ya, Sammy." He went out to tell a nurse Sam had woken up and came back to an awake, smiling John, and a less awake but just as happy Sam._

_"The nurse is going to come check on you." Dean announced, returning to his seat. "Talk about dedication to your patients, it's, like, a quarter past twelve."_

_Sam just smiled and tried to hold in his laughter._

_"What?" Dean asked, smiling._

_Sam couldn't hold it in any longer and even though it hurt his chest like mad he let a laugh out._

_"Dad said you fainted. Fainted! Like a girl."_

_Dean rolled his eyes. "You were dying!" He objected defensively. "And your the girl, bitch!"_

_Sam just smiled. "Jerk."_

**()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()**

Dean flipped open the phone. "Sammy? Where are you?" the sense of urgency apparent in his voice.

"I'm sorry. Sammy can't come to the phone right now." Deans blood ran cold at the man's voice on the other end.

"I swear to God, if you hurt him-"

"Save your threats." Said the man. "I'll give you Sam back, but there are choices to be made first. About little Sam."

"Choices?" Dean's voice shook.

"Yeah, like... Dead or alive?"

**Hope you liked it! If you did, please review. I always love hearing from you! I'll try to update soon.**


	6. Chapter 6: Shhh It's a Secret

**Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews! This chapter's a little sooner than usual. (I felt bad about the major cliffy) Hope it satisfies your Hurt!Sam needs. Well, the next chapter will anyway.**

When Sam was six he finally went to kindergarten. Unlike Dean, he knew no other way to live than on the road with his dad and brother.

It was their first assignment that got him: Draw your family.

He took the crayon in his small hand and scribbled until the teacher said stop, but one thing troubled his small mind.

Why didn't his have a mommy? Everyone else's did. It didn't make sense. And when Mrs. Fayes came and taped it to the class bulletin board, the other kids joked, not understanding.

Sam started asking questions and John did his best to answer vaguely. The next time a kid joked enough to bring tears to Sam's eyes, John, protective father he was during his son's first week of school, took him out.

They left town the next day.

Then there was the time in third grade when Sam got in a fight. Some kid was a jerk about him being new.

The nine year old said he didn't want to fight and walked home with a black eye after the bully threw a punch.

Dean was outraged and threatened to go teach the idiot a lesson. But he did what Sam wanted and left it alone. Instead he took Sam into the bathroom and gave him some ice before going across the street to buy some sunglasses.

Sam had been looked after all his life and so far it had all been going smoothly- until now. First the shooting and now this... Dean didn't know what to do.

The mysterious man had hung up. Dean sat down and put elbows on his knees. Shakily, he called his dad's number.

"This is John-"

"Dad!" Dean cried.

"I can't come to the phone right now-"

"Dammit!" Dean just about threw the phone at the ground. "SAMMY!"

..ooOOoo..

Sam groaned as he shifted. It took him a second to realize he wasn't in a bed next to Dean.

He felt springs against his bruised back. There was a thin mattress beneath him, not even in good enough shape for Goodwill.

His eyes fluttered open but he saw nothing. He was blindfolded.

He tried to scream for help, but he was gagged.

His hands and feet were tied with ropes, already burning his skin. Sam struggled to get up, but it sent a burst of pain up his side.

Kicking out his feet, he hoped for some sense of where he was. Concrete. The space couldn't have been more than seven feet in each direction.

"Look who's awake!" Sam jumped. He didn't hear anyone come near him.

"Hey, Sammy. Recognize my voice?" The man laughed and Sam struggled even harder once he knew who it was.

Josh. The Josh.

"Guess that's a yes." Sam froze as the footsteps got closer.

"You see, Sam, I've already talked to el Deano and he seems to want you back. Huh! Who would've guessed, right Sammy?"

He walk up behind Sam and roughly ripped off the gag.

"Don't get used to talking. I just have to prove to your daddy that your alive. For now."

..ooOOoo..

Dean had called Ellen, Jo, and all Dad's hunting friends but he hadn't heard from the one person who's voice he needed to hear.

He was trying to get his hands on a phone tracking device when the phone rang.

Dean fumbled trying to grab it quickly.

"Dean. I'm almost back. I got your message."

The older hunter paused. "I don't blame you son, you know that, right? I'm thirty minutes away."

"Okay."

"And Dean? When we find those sons of bitches? You can do the honors."

..ooOOoo..

John arrived in twenty minutes, Bobby pulling in behind him.

"Dad!" Dean ran out to meet his father. "Thank god! I've been trying to get one of those police things, that way next time they call we can-"

The nineteen year old stopped mid sentence. In the distance they heard a sound.

"Is that Zeppelin?" Bobby asked.

Dean's eyes widened. "My phone!" He called as he ran back in.

He flipped the phone open. "If you even touch him I will rip your lungs out." Dean snarled through gritted teeth.

The two older hunters ran up and Dean put it on speaker.

"Nice to see too, Dean. Is your daddy home?" Dean looked up at John gravely.

"I'm here."

"Johnny! How's things?" Dean watched his father's expression change.

"Josh?"

"Ding! Ding! Alive and in the flesh. But I'm not alone here, Johnny Boy." Dean heard a grunt and a small whimper.

"Dad! Dean! I'm in some house. I here a lot of buses-" Dean flinched as they heard a thump, followed by a cry.

"That's enough of that!" Josh said too cheerfully. "You guys find me in 24 hours? I'll keep wittle Sammy alive. Maybe. Sneak preview of if you don't?" Dean couldn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes as he heard the screams.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam cried. "DEA-" Josh snapped the phone shut with his clean hand.

..ooOOoo..

The Winchesters and Bobby both sat there silently for a second. Finally, "We need to find Sam." Dean stated the most obvious thing in the world. "NOW!"

Bobby got up abruptly and went to the other room, pulling out his phone. "This is Everam." They heard him say. "Yes, FBI. I'm calling about..."

Dean sat down, distraught and deep in thought. John, who hadn't moved at all, acted busy to avoid talking.

Suddenly, Dean shot up, the closest thing to a smile he could get lit up his face. "Dad!" He said excitedly. "Remember when you gave Sam that cell phone in kindergarten and attached GPS?" John nodded. "Is it on the phone he has now?" The hunters eyes widened with acknowledgement.

"I'm calling about my son's phone. He lost it and we're trying to get it back." Dean was waiting eagerly next to his father, Bobby confidently packing his car.

"Sure, Sam Patterson. 555-7260. Gingham... Nebraska Thank you." John hung up. "We found him, but it's a long drive."

Dean checked the time. "We have twenty hours."  
><strong><br>..ooOOoo..  
><strong>  
>"Where are your buddies, Josh?" Sam asked through gritted teeth. "They leave you?"<p>

Josh hadn't even taken the time to stop Sam's newest wounds from bleeding. The deepest one he duct-taped, but that wasn't going to be fun later.

"They'll be here. Trust me. Just in time to finish where we left off. I must say Sam," Josh walked over and reattached the gag. "I'm surprised you survived the gunshot. I did it myself, too. But don't worry. I'll follow through. Never give up, right Sammy?"

Sam glared at him. This was obviously a trap. If Dean and Dad came, they'd be goners. He'd rather die than have his brother and father die trying to save him.

"Are you bored, Sam?" Josh interrupted his thoughts. "Let's have some fun. How about giving your daddy eighteen hours instead?" Sam shook his head. He didn't know if they even knew where he was yet. He didn't even know where he was.

Josh just laughed. "Shhhh. It's a secret." He smiled holding up a dirty finger to his lips.

I'm screwed. Sam thought.

**I know you want the next chapter. Review if you liked it. If you didn't, sorry my writing isn't good enough for ya. ;) I'll try to update soon!**


	7. Chapter 7: Where Are You?

**Hey guys! At first this chapter was a little shorter and I left you with a MAJOR cliffy but you guys are so awesome I made it a little longer. ;) Just a little. It's still the second shortest chapter...**

The father and son were silent on their drive, the absence of sound giving them both time to think.

Speeding down the highway, Dean couldn't help but realize the consequences if they didn't find Sam in time.

"Did they tell you where the phone was?" John asked quietly.

"Yeah, got the address." Dean replies sullenly. "How much longer?"

John sighed. "A few more hours. That'll give us... about an hour to find Sammy."

Dean nodded, his own words ringing in his head.

"Sammy, if you died, I'd die too."

..ooOOoo..

Sam had miraculously managed to fall asleep for half an hour when he felt himself being moved. Josh grabbed him and dragged him recklessly through a larger room.

"Wha- what?" He said groggily, before snapping back to reality. "Where are you taking me?"

Josh laughed. "You'll see." Sam said nothing, no energy left to do anything. His throat was scratchy and parched and his stomach growled. The shooting pains of being dragged barely noticeable through his groggy mind.

Josh dumped him in a closet across the bare, windowless room before shutting the door, enclosing Sam in the lonely darkness.

..ooOOoo..

"Dad. You know I'm going to have to ask: Who's Josh?" Dean nervously asked his father, avoiding eye contact, his green eyes staring at the asphalt flying past them out the car window.

The older man sighed and glanced in the rear view mirror to see if Bobby was still behind them.

"You must've been five, maybe six, and Sam was only about 12 months." He began reluctantly, never taking his eyes off the road.

"You know this better than anyone, but I work alone." Dean nodded. "But this Josh guy and his brother and sister were in the area, too. They seemed nice enough and neither of us wanted to give up the case, so we decided to team up, just for this once."

"But... Things went wrong. Josh's sister, Emmy, and I were searching for this wendigo in one section of the forest while her brothers searched the other side."

Dean looked at his father. He could hear the despair in the man's voice, the change of emotions surprising to his son, so used to seeing his father always tough. The hardened heart of a hunter.

"It ambushed us, swiping. I managed to scare it away with a torch, but not before it... It scratched up Emmy pretty bad. She was bleeding and right then and there I could tell she wouldn't make it."

The man's eyes glistened and he tried to hide it in the true Winchester style. "She died. Right in my arms. And her brothers found me there. On the forest floor with their dead sister on my lap, her blood on my hands."

Dean didn't know what to say. "It seems they want revenge." John stated slowly.

Then the silence filled the Impala again, Dean staring out the window in awe and shock, wondering if he will truly know the same feeling Josh felt in a few hours time.

..ooOOoo..

Sam was so hungry and thirsty he didn't even think he could move if he wanted to.

Or so he thought. That was before Josh opened the door and yanked off Sam's blindfold, placing a sandwich and water with a straw in front of him.

Sam managed a few bites of the sandwich with his hands still tied behind his back and chugged the water, Josh smirking the whole time.

It was only after his thirst was quenched that Sam realized how much his need for liquid had clouded his hunter judgement.

Slowly using the wall behind him to stand up, he began to speak. "You let me go! Or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Josh teased. The teen was already swaying slowly.

Sam realized his giant mistake as his vision blurred. "You... drugged the water." He accused sleepily. Josh just laughed as the boy's eyes began to close and he slumped lifelessly to the floor.

..ooOOoo..

"Dad! Exit!" Dean just about shrieked when he saw the sign. It was only a matter of time until they saved Sammy.

"Dean, this is just about the worst thing I could say right now." John said. "We're out of gas."

..ooOOoo..

Sam woke up tied to a table, his arms and legs stretched out to every side. Struggling slightly, he felt the cold metal of the table against his bare back. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Luckily, a quick lift of his head as far as possible told him his pants were still on, though he noted not to try that again, as the dizziness swept over him, causing his head to pound even harder.

"Don't worry." He told himself. "Dean'll come for me." But this time he said it halfheartedly.

..ooOOoo..

Dean cursed anyone and everyone as John skidded into the gas station, instantly running out and filling the car.

Dean sat in the uncomfortable quiet of the vehicle as his father filled the tank.

He jumped as a noise suddenly pierced the silence. He picked up his phone. It was Josh.

"You let my brother go right now or I swear I will rip your lungs o-"

"Dean! Where's your dad?" John was getting back into the car, eyes widening as he saw Dean on the phone.

"Right here." He handed the phone to the man, who began a rant fairly similar to Dean's before Josh interrupted him too.

"Sam and I are both here." Josh held the phone up to Sam, but the kid didn't say anything. All John heard was deep, ragged breathing.

"Well, we are. The drugs must not have gotten out of his system yet." Josh walked to the other side of Sam and picked up a knife. "But let me prove it to ya, Johnny."

Dean watched his dad tense up suddenly, starting the car and pulling out of the gas station. They weren't far now. "You didn't."

But Josh just laughed. "Here that, old friend? That was me slitting your son's wrists. Chop chop Johnny..."

**See that? Right there? That could've been where I left you. But I felt bad, so... continue.**

..ooOOoo..

Sam felt the pain, but he couldn't do anything about it anyway. He kept hoping Dean would come but, as the warm blood ran down his arms, he doubted he would ever see his family again.

Maybe Josh and his friends were right last time. Maybe it would be easier on them if he wasn't alive. He never was much of a hunter.

His eyes drooped in sleepiness as he felt someone shaking his arm.

Sam thought the person looked kind of like Dean, but that was impossible. How could they have found him?

But he felt suddenly released from the weight holding him to the table. It was a dream, he thought.

"You with me, Sammy?" He heard. It really was Dean, takin off his top shirt and trying to stem the blood flow. Sam nodded and went to close his eyes. He could relax now that Dean was here to take care of him.

"Uh uh, Sammy, stay awake." Dean managed to slow the blood pretty well and went to help Sam up.

"It's okay," He muttered as they hobbled to the door. "It's all o-" Suddenly, Dean dropped to the ground awkwardly and Sam fell too, his only way to stand laying unconscious on the floor.

Josh's brother stood in front of them, gun in hand.

"Going somewhere?"

**That's all, folks! For now. If you liked this, please review. Next chapter you learn what truly happened the night Sam was shot...**


	8. Chapter 8: Remember

**Thank you so much for the nice reviews! I appreciate it. Maybe I'll post mid-week? Can't promise anything but who knows...**

Dean woke up with a start, at first not remembering where he was. But a look to his left reminded him.

Sam was unconscious next to him, the blood from his decently bandaged wounds hardly seeping out anymore.

Dean immediately tried to stand up but he was tied. So was Sammy. His ankle ached as he squirmed to get out of the ropes. Must've sprained it in the fall or something. He had bigger worries now, though. There was no way out of the restraints.

The man, Josh's brother he guessed, had picked him clean. Not even a knife or anything.

Dean was out of options.

There was always one other thing he could try... Dean wasn't one to ask for help but he knew his dad was here somewhere, if he hadn't been captured, too.

"HELP! DAD! WE'RE OVER HERE!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs until he was hoarse.

Sam woke with a start and joined in, tired but determined.

"Dad!" He yelled feebly. He locked eyes with Dean. The older brother always tried to be strong for Sam. This time, the fright was obvious in his eyes. They needed help. Bad.

Dean's ankle was swollen and Sam was still bleeding and they were alone.

**..ooOOoo..**

John looked around and suddenly Dean was gone.

"Dean?" He whispered loudly. No response. Cursing, he saw the open door to his left and checked to make sure it was clear before walking in, Bobby close behind.

The first thing he saw was the blood. It was everywhere. It was obviously the place where Josh had hurt Sam, but where was he now? And where was Dean? Were either even alive?

**..ooOOoo..**

"Sam?" Dean looked tiredly at his brother.

"Yeah?"

"I think we're in their panic room." He explained, noticing the iron fixtures surrounding them.

Sam nodded. "It makes sense. Solid. If it can keep demons out, it can keep people out." He paused in thought. "We might die, right Dean?" He added quietly.

Dean didn't say anything. He wanted to tell Sam it would be alright. Everything would be fine. But a part of him doubted it and- just in case- he didn't want Sam's last memory of him be him lying.

"Sammy?"

Sam didn't answer right away. "Yeah?" He replied eventually.

"D'you think... D'ya think you could tell me about... That night?" Dean said timidly. He wanted to know. What could Sam possibly have kept it from him for?

The fifteen year old was quiet. The pain ripping up his side from his stitches and his latest cuts and bruises made it hard to concentrate on anything.

But Dean deserved to know, right?

**..ooOOoo..**

_"Sam! We're grabbin' a bite at that place we saw earlier." Dean called from the bathroom. "Wanna come?"_

_Sam looked up from the computer. "Uh, no. I'll stay here and do research."_

_"Nerd." Dean muttered teasingly, rewarded with a playful punch in the arm as he put on his jacket._

_"Your choice." He added as he joined John outside. "Don't let anyone in. You know the drill." Dean added cautiously as he slipped out the door._

_Sam just rolled his eyes when he heard the lock click from the outside as Dean locked him in._

_He was fifteen. He could take care of himself._

_After a half hour of research on some ghost, he went to take a shower before settling down for the night._

_The bathroom might be crappy, but the shower was surprisingly nice and he stayed in longer than usual, letting the warm water relax his muscles, sore from the latest training session with Dad._

_Drying off, he got got dressed. His shirt was halfway over his head as he walked out of the bathroom._

_Click._

_Sam froze, arms still up in the motion to finish dressing._

_"That's right. Just stay there." The voice whispered loudly and Sam could just about hear the man grinning._

_"Why don't you sit down in this chair." Sam looked slightly to his right and saw a chair placed in the middle of the room._

_He made his way slowly, aware of at least two pairs of eyes on his back._

_Sitting down, he got his first good look at the new arrivals. All three were holding guns._

_The man who had spoken was tall and muscular and unshaven, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes emanating off of him like perfume._

_The others had handguns trained on him. Last resorts, Sam guessed._

_Gritting his teeth, he sat obediently as one man tied him to the chair. He could barely move._

_"What's this about?" He growled, glaring at the men._

_The nearest punched him in the jaw and Sam's head whipped back. He bit his lip, trying not to make a noise. It would only egg them on._

_"Don't talk." He snarled, cracking his knuckles._

_"We are friends of your daddy!" The lead man explained. "Hunter buddies, you could say." He circled Sam, eyeing him and playing with a knife in his free hand._

_"You see, he got my sister killed. Originally, we came to kill him. Revenge. But then I thought to myself: Josh, what better revenge than giving him a taste of his own medicine first? I'll get his family. See how he likes it."_

_Sam stared at them, not knowing what to say._

_"I guess we'll give you a chance to just tell us where he is." Josh began. "Or my brother Ron and I'll kill you." He added simply._

_"I won't tell you where he is." Sam didn't take his eyes off of Josh, who hit him right above the eye with the butt of his gun._

_The blood immediately started running into his eye. "No." Another punch- to the jaw._

_"You don't understand, do you boy?" He growled. "We don't care about you. If I had it my way I would slit your throat right now."_

_"Your brother and father? They probably won't even care that your dead. You've always been different Sam, trust me, I know. Been followin' you guys for a while."_

_Sam kept his mouth closed. One of them he could take, probably two, but three with guns was out of the question._

_"So here's how it's gonna go: Your going to stand up. And face the wall. Slowly." He kept his gun on Sam as the other two untied him._

_Cautiously, he stood and turned._

_"That's right." Josh pressed the gun into his back. "Tell us where your daddy is."_

_"You'll kill me anyway." Sam said. "Why should I tell you?"_

_"True," Josh agreed. "But you should be worried about how painless it is."_

_Sam took his chance as Josh was talking, turning around and knocking the gun out of the man's hands._

_Josh swung at him but Sam ducked, reaching up to give him a jab back. The next kick to his stomach made him black out for half a second and he fell to his knees._

_His jaw snapped back with another kick to his chin._

_Standing up slowly, he faced Josh. "You better leave or I'll- I'll-" He didn't finish the threat._

_It was funny, Sam thought. He heard the crack of the gun before he felt it. He stood there in shock, staring at the smoking pistol in the hands of Josh._

_Josh smirked and Sam fell, pressing his hand to the wound. The blood was unrelinquishing, flowing freely down his side._

_"Should we make sure he's dead?" He heard one of them say._

_"Naw," Josh replied. "We need John to come after us. He'll want revenge. We'll get all three."_

_Sam closed his eyes in pain. It was agonizing, and as he began coughing blood he knew this was it._

_He'd never see Dean again, never hear him teasing his little brother or blaring the same five albums over and over, that is, when John would let him, which was almost always. After all, Dean was a lot like Dad._

_The one thing he'd hoped for was a chance to say goodbye. He deserved it, right? Just one more chance to say he loved them._

_He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable..._

_But it didn't come. Part of him wanted it to just be over. Let the excruciating pain come to a stop._

_"Please..." He whispered, though no one was there to hear his begs. "Just let it end."_

_He lost consciousness multiple times, each time waking back up to the searing pain disappointedly._

_"Where are you?" Sam said to his absent brother and the ceiling. "Where..."_

_He heard shouting. Closing his eyes, he attempted to avoid the screaming, wanted to get away._

_But the voice was shaking him now, and Sam opened his eyes. Huh, his dying wish seemed to have been granted._

_"D'n."_

_His brother was staring down at him in horror and Sam realized what a wonder it was that he'd stayed awake this long._

_He felt the tug of death pulling him along and that was okay, because Dean was here now and he could fix it._

_"D'n, 'm bleeding." He informed, and then he let the depths of unconsciousness take his hand as the folds of darkness enveloped his vision._

_He welcomed the blackness, but it didn't last long. "No, Sammy! Stay with me!" Dean's voice beckoned him back and Sam forced his heavy eyelids open._

_"Wake up!"_

_But he was awake. He'd opened his eyes but the room was pitch black. He was really sleepy, but Dean sounded desperate. He must not've opened his eyes after all._

_Sam gave it one more try, prying his eyes open to see Dean's face. His wet eyes and quivering chin. If Dean was crying it must be bad._

_"Good, good. Good job, Sammy!" Dean said._

_He couldn't even feel it... Was that good or bad? The last thing Sam remembered was staring at Dean's green eyes, seeing more than just sadness. He saw fright, something Dean never showed. Ever._

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean couldn't speak. Sammy wasn't supposed to ask for death. Not his Sammy. Never.

"Well, we better get to work on getting out of here." He cleared his throat and shifted so he was behind the fifteen year old. "Hold your hands up."

Sam sighed as Dean began gnawing on his ropes. He should've known Dean wouldn't want to talk about it.

"Sam, keep your hands raised a little." Dean admonished gently, looking up at the younger. Sam had slumped down.

"Sam?" Dean asked nervously. "Sam!"

Sam jarred his head up. "I'm okay. Just... passed out."

Dean put his teeth back to his brother's tied wrists without another word. Blacking out for no reason couldn't be good.

**..ooOOoo..**

John turned to Bobby. "I can't find him anywhere." Bobby shook his head. "Me either."

John faced the room, ruby red with his son's blood.

"We need to split up. There's a second floor and this floor, at least. We'll cover more ground this way."

"John, I'd advise that we stay toge-"

"No." John interrupted adamantly. "We need to find them fast."

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean laughed in happiness at his success as the ropes freed Sam's hands. He smiled and turned to undo Dean's but the look in his brother's eyes stopped him.

"Sammy. Someone's coming." Sam glanced at the door. "Look at me." Dean said gravely and Sam's vision snapped back at him.

"Put your hands behind your back. Pretend your hands are tied. If they... hurt me. Badly. I want you to scream bloody murder- bang the walls, do whatever it takes- until someone opens the door."

Sam nodded as tears swelled in his eyes.

"You go, okay? Don't worry about Dad or Bobby, they'll be fine, just get. Away."

They both froze in position as the door slowly creaked open.

"You first." The man growled. Dean didn't recognize him, but Sam did. The third man. The friend.

He trudged over and yanked Dean up roughly.

Dean gave his brother one last gaze before the door shut again.

Sam took his hands out from behind his back, instantly looking around for something he could use for a weapon.

His hands shook as he searched the empty room. Who knows what they were doing to Dean...

He tried banging on the door and screaming but no one heard him. Finally, he sat down for a break, warn out and panting heavily.

Sam's head shot up when he heard the footsteps.

**Thanks for reading! Review if you liked it. Critique is always welcome, too, of course. Like I said, maybe mid-week. Not sure. I might need some time to cope with the season premiere though! ;) Thanks again. **


	9. Chapter 9: Regrets and Revenge

**Okay... I know I said maybe mid-week. Woops. I know what you're thinking. How do I sleep at night? Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!**

For some reason, Sam didn't do anything. He froze, like a deer in the headlights, as the door opened slowly.

Sam closed his eyes, waiting for it- whatever it was. Probably painful, he thought.

"Sammy?" The fifteen year old snapped his eyes open.

"Dad?" John rushed to his son and checked him head to toe.

"You okay?" He grabbed his son's wrists and checked the cuts on his arms. Sam nodded earnestly, more worried about his brother than himself.

"What happened, Sam? Where are-"

"Dad." Sam tried to capture his dad's attention but the man was too distracted.

"Josh did this. I swear when I-"

"Dad!" John finally stopped speaking.

"They took Dean."

**..ooOOoo..**

"I swear if you guys touch another hair on Sam's head I will kill you all you sonuvabitches and you won't even see it coming I swear I'll make it slow and-"

"Shut up." The man growled, jostling Dean harder as he dragged him out the back door and through the drizzle of the late night rain. His ankle was killing him and by now he was sure it was more than a sprain.

Dean eyed the makeshift shed hidden in the brush and overgrown foliage of the yard.

Yep, Dean figures he knows where he's heading.

**..ooOOoo..**

"Okay, Sammy, can you walk?" Sam nodded, his eyes drooping in exhaustion.

"Okay, son, we're almost out of here. We just need to find your brother, okay?" John tried to mask his panic, the thought of finally finding one son only to lose another. It was killing him.

**..ooOOoo..**

"In here." The man shoved Dean roughly into the dark room. The 19 year old fell to the floor, twisting on his side to avoid hitting his face on the dirt, his hands still tied.

"Let's finish this," The man smirked, cocking his gun.

**..ooOOoo..**

John thought maybe- just maybe- they were home free. He should've known better.

The hunter was cautiously helping a limping Sam through the house when two men came out holding guns.

John pushed Sam behind himself and pulled out his own gun to face the two men, but they weren't aiming at him.

"Put the gun down or the boy dies." Josh said grimly.

John had no choice. He dropped his gun slowly and carefully behind him, making sure Sam watched.

Thinking quickly, Sam dropped to his knees and grabbed the gun, pointing it immediately at Josh himself.

"Don't try anything." He snarled, turning to Josh's brother. "Whatever you guys did to my brother, you're going to pay." He cocked the gun. "Right now."

The shock of the blow caused both Sam and the man to fly back. The bullet hole between the brother's eyes seeped as Josh dropped his gun and crawled over helplessly towards his dying brother.

Sam watched in horror as the blood surrounded the brothers. He'd done this. He'd caused this. Josh looked up at him with hatred in his eyes like Sam had never seen before.

Behind the revengeful adrenaline causing his heart to beat wildly he felt guilt and sympathy, because he'd just killed a little brother.

That could be him there, with Dean shaking his shoulders.

John gave the man a few seconds with the body before promptly knocking him out.

**..ooOOoo..**

"Y-you don't wanna do this." Dean was glad Sammy wasn't here to see him like this. Begging. Hunters weren't supposed to do it at all. It shows weakness.

But Dean wasn't trying to be weak. He would let them kill him- he really would. As long as he knew Dad, Bobby, and especially Sam were safe first.

"Ha. Yeah, right." He raised the gun and Dean shut his eyes in anticipation.

Click.

Click. Click. "Dammit." The man growled, pulling out his handgun. "One of these days my gun'll be loaded when it needs to be."

**..ooOOoo..**

"Thank God!" John sighed as Bobby came back down the stairs. He looked on curiously as John finished pushing the furniture back in front of the closet door, on the other side of which happened to be an unconscious Josh.

"Will you take Sam out to the car?" John asked Bobby, motioning to the boy nodding off despite his best efforts to stay awake. That kid was exhausted. And hurt.

"I stitched up his wrists." John nodded to the fresh bandages. "They had a first aid kit."

Bobby nodded and started to help Sam up. When he realized where the older hunter was trying to take him, he stopped in his tracks.

"No." He stated adamantly. "I'm going with you guys to find Dean."

John opened his mouth but Sam wasn't done. "Does anyone know him better than me?" He questioned. "Do you?"

John knew there was no way around this. "Fine." He turned to head back upstairs, gun in hand but-

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "Has anyone checked out back yet?"

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean knew he had to fight back. He'd just been waiting for the right moment. Quickly, he kicked out his feet, hearing a crack as he came in contact with a knee.

Yelling in pain, the man dropped his gun and clutched his knee. As he bent over, Dean kicked upwards and the hunter's head snapped back viciously.

Using his foot to drag the gun to himself, Dean shouted for help.

"Sam!"

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam took of racing through the backyard when he heard the familiar voice, despite his lack of weapons, the agonizing pain in his side, and his father's terrified voice behind him.

"Dean!" He called back. "Dean!" He stumbled over a root and fell, stifling the pain when he looked up to see the slightly faded roof of a small shack in the tree line.

"Dad! Over here!"

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean used the wall to get to his feet and face the split-lipped enemy.

He managed a half exasperated, half gleeful sound of triumph. Until the man pulled out a knife.

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam crashed awkwardly through the door and saw Dean.

"Dean..."

The older brother smiled. "Hey, Sammy."

John rushed in, followed by Bobby. "You best put that knife down." Bobby threatened.

"You wish." He snarled, and lunged at the nearest person- John. The father was too busy with his sons to notice and Bobby had no choice.

The shot rang out loud and clear over the drone of the rain.

**..ooOOoo..**

John reached for the bloody knife lying a few feet away and freed Dean's rope burned wrists.

The nineteen year old held out his arms and smothered his younger brother, the rasping sobs of the youngest breaking through the white noise of the downpour and the silence of the two older men.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean whispered. "I'm okay." Sam nodded and tried not to look like quite the fool as he sobbed uncontrollably into his brother.

His face against the cold amulet around Dean's neck, Sam could feel the eyes of the older hunters.

He didn't care if they saw him cry. Because he was hurting. Because Dean was hurting. Because he'd killed a man at fifteen.

**Poor Sam! If you liked it, please review. I'll attempt to update soon. No promises. ;)**


	10. Chapter 10: Nightmare

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews! Glad you're liking the story! Here goes nothin':**

Dean?" Their father held out the gun to his son. "I don't break promises."

Bobby helped the two clear a path to the closet door, opening it to find a defeated Josh sitting pathetically on the floor.

Sam closed his eyes from his chair in the corner of the room. He knew what was coming.

"Please." Josh pleaded.

Dean stepped forward and raised his arm, aiming at the man's head.

"You don't get to beg." Dean spat. "You tried to kill my brother." That's all he needed to say, pulling the trigger without a moment's hesitation and frowning at the body before turning back to his brother.

"You can open your eyes now, Sammy."****

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam had been bleeding way too badly and they all knew it. As John set him down in the backseat, he already could tell they'd be making a trip to the hospital. Sam wouldn't like that; two trips to the hospital so close to each other made any hunter uncomfortable.

Dean was really worried about Sam. He was really pale and had obviously lost a lot of blood. And lied horribly. Not once did Dean believe him when he said he didn't need a doctor.

John tried to avoid most of the questions at Charleston General, where they immediately hooked Sam up to an IV with plans of a blood transfusion.

Dean spent all of his time next to Sam's bed. He didn't eat much. One of the nurses joked they'd be admitting him too if he didn't eat soon. Dean gave her a dry smile.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine." A nurse told John after the transfusion the next day. "He just needs to rest for a while here." John nodded solemnly and the nurse turned to check Sam's vitals.

Dean was looking blankly out the window when Sam began to stur. Gasping, he sat up quickly, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, putting a hand on his brother to stop him from ripping his IV out.

Sam looked over at his older brother. "I'm fine. Just- just a nightmare." Dean nodded, groaning as his ankle started throbbing again. It was times like these when he wished he had agreed to be treated in the hospital, but honestly, they hadn't wanted to stay any longer than they had to. Dean figured he'd ice it when they got back to Bobby's.

"Look," He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Sam. " Dad's getting you out. Tonight. But I gotta go now, ' cause there's no way Dad's letting me help out." He gestured at his ankle and Sam seemed understanding, but disappointed.

During the middle of the night, the two older men miraculously managed to get Sam out without anyone noticing. "You okay?" John or Bobby asked every few minutes.

Sam nodded, focusing on not falling as they quietly made their way through the stairwell to the parking garage. He was as okay as he could be without Dean there. Not that he was complaining. There's no way Dean could've made all these stairs on his ankle. At least John assured him Dean was waiting in the car, Sam thought.****

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean tried to play it tough, but they all knew his ankle was hurt badly. John chuckled at the frustration on his oldest's face from the fact that he broke it falling, not doing anything heroic.

Dean was asleep in the passenger seat, his head resting uncomfortably against the window. They had been driving for several hours and though Dean had said he would stay awake and watch Sam the whole time, his tiredness won over.

Sam was laying in the back seat, unconscious in a combination of exhaustion and painkillers. He was dead asleep and at every bump John thought would wake him up for sure, he just adjusted his position a little.

John wasn't sure what to make of it. At least he didn't seem to be in pain while he was sleeping. Maybe just this once the Winchesters could catch a break and Sam would be fine...

Bobby pulled off of the highway in front of John, who followed in the Impala. They traveled a few more miles before Dean woke up.

"Dad?"

"Hey, Dean. We're almost to Bobby's." The older hunter had offered to let them rest at his place for a few days, knowing all three could use a little R&R.

Dean glanced back at his brother. "How's Sam doing?"

"Still sleeping. He seems okay, but we'll check him out when we get back." Dean noticed for the first time how tired his father looked himself. "And by okay, you mean... the Winchester version of okay."

John nodded curtly. Hurt Sam was better than no Sam.****

**..ooOOoo..  
><strong>  
>The car shook as they drove over the pebbled entrance to Bobby's place. Dean squinted, trying to catch a first glimpse at the house.<p>

John pulled to a stop just as Bobby was getting out of his truck. He walked over to the three.

"Come on, Dean, I'll give you a hand." He held out his hand but Dean shook his head. "I got it." He grumbled, using the open car door to pull himself up.

Cursing under his breath, Dean put his full weight on his left foot and managed to hop a few steps before figuring Bobby's help was easier than being laughed at for the next few weeks about falling on his face.

"Fine." Dean put his arm around Bobby and limped slowly into the house. John was behind them, struggling to get an almost comatose Sam out of the back seat and carry his almost six-foot-something into the living room.

"I swear," He grunted as he shut the car door with his foot. "You'd think he'd be done growing by now."

Sam somehow managed to sleep through John stumbling up the steps and banging Sam's legs into a wall or two.

Laying his son down on the couch, John went straight to the kitchen and poured himself a glass and one for Bobby.

"To us." He said tiredly, clinking his glass on Bobby's.

"To us." The older man echoed.

Dean hopped over to Sam and sat in the chair next to him, placing ice on his swollen ankle.

He smiled as Sam's eyelids fluttered and he made a small noise. He hadn't seen his brother dreaming in a while. He looked so young.

Sam made a more exasperated noise and turned on his side, almost falling off the bed.

Dean's smile turned into a frown. He shook Sam's shoulder gently, then a little harder when the boy didn't respond.

"Dad!" Dean called. "It's just a dream, Sammy, okay? Just wake up."

John rushed to Dean's side as Sam's actions became even wilder and he began crying out. He whimpered softly, thrashing his arms every which way and knocking Dean in the face.

"Sam!" John said loudly, but Sam didn't hear them. He kicked his leg out, attacking some invisible enemy and almost hitting John in the process.

"Sammy, wake up!" Dean yelled, exchanging a confused and scared expression with his father.

John gave Sam one final, desperate shove. "SAM!"

Sam's eyes snapped open, wild and full of terror. "It was... a dream." He whispered. Dean nodded, his heart still pounding.

"Yeah, Sam. It was just a dream." Dean repeated.****

**..ooOOoo..  
><strong>  
>"Dean. We've gotta do something about your foot. You can't just 'walk it off'!" Bobby admonished as he cleaned his gun. "At least go see my hunter friend, Grace. She has a clinic a town over." Dean sighed. "Fine."<p>

"I'll start the Impala." John stated, grabbing his gun and keys. Dean looked over at his little brother one more time before following his father.****

**..ooOOoo..**

"Yes, Dean, it's fractured." Grace told him, motioning for him to put his shoe back on. "Luckily, it's not too bad. I suggest you keep off of it for a week or two at the least. And I'll give you a brace. And crutches. As long as you, as Bobby put it, 'actually use the things, that stubborn idgit' then you'll be fine."

John smiled as Dean rolled his eyes.

"And for your brother," She added, handing Dean a bottle. "They're a little stronger than anything over the counter." Dean nodded in thanks, as did John.

"Good luck!" She called after them.****

**..ooOOoo..**

Bobby decided that even though Sam was asleep, there was no way that boy wasn't starving when he woke up.

He began shifting through the cans in his cabinets for some soup that wasn't four years expired.

"No." At first Bobby didn't even hear the small voice.

"NO!" The thump that followed threw the hunter into action. "Sam!" He shouted, letting the soup can crash to the floor.

Sam's eyes were squeezed shut. "STOP!" He screamed thrashing on the floor.

"Sam!" Bobby shook the fifteen year old's shoulder. "Wake up!"

Sam suddenly sat up, breathing heavily and shifting himself away from the outstretched arm. "S-sorry." He mumbled, clutching his aching side.

Bobby tried to catch his breath. "'s not your fault, Sam."

He helped a tense Sam back onto the couch just as the rumble of the Impala announced the arrival of Dean and John.

"Uh, I'm gonna go help your brother." Bobby explained, hurriedly making his way out the front door.

"Yeah, but let's just say I wear the brace for four days-" Dean was saying.

"Dean, John." Bobby hissed, keeping his voice low just in case Sam was up and around. "We've got to do something. Sam's still having nightmares. They're pretty bad. Certainly not healthy..."

John nodded but Dean looked worried. That was, like, the third one _today._ "Where is he?"

"On the couch-" Dean pushed past them limping heavily into the house.

Sam was asleep on the couch, curled up in a small ball. He tenderly reached out to touch Sam's arm. "Sammy."

Sam jumped at the touch, shrinking back. Dean was surprised, pulling his arm back.

"It's okay, Sam. It's just me." Sam sat up, nodding in relief. "S-sorry."

"Bobby said you had another nightmare?" Dean said. Sam looked down.

"It's... nothing. Really."

The older brother sighed. "Yeah, 'cause screaming and rolling onto your recently re-stitched wounds is _'nothing.'_"

Sam opened his mouth to object but Bobby and John walked in the door at that second.

"Hey, Sam. How you feeling?" John asked, sitting down next to his son on the couch. Sam moved back a little and pulled his feet closer.

"Feel ready to move upstairs? Bobby's got a bed just waiting for you."

"What about Dean?"

"There are two beds in the room, Sam. Do you really think those two would split us up right now?" Dean added.

Sam allowed a small smile. "You're right."****

**..ooOOoo..**

When Sam was finally asleep in his bed upstairs, Dean got up and winced as he tried to make his way down- without the brace or crutches.

"Stop trying to walk without the brace, ya idgit." Bobby called from the kitchen.

Dean frowned and sat in a chair by the kitchen table. "Where's Dad?"

"With that car of his again." Bobby answered. "I swear, its like his third child."

Dean chuckled. "You know you're probably..."

Dean's sentence was cut off by a strangled cry from the second floor.

**Yes? It was okay I hope. I'd appreciate it if you review if you liked it. Feedback helps me figure out what you like and don't like! I'll try to post sometime next week! Thanks again.**


	11. Chapter 11: Dean

**Hey! Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you liked it! Next chapter here, not much action, sorry. A little... sad? It's up to you I guess. Anyway, here you go!**

"Sammy!" Dean yelled as Bobby ran past him and up the stairs. Hopping over to his crutches, Dean hobbled to the second floor- slower than he would've liked to- and found Bobby talking to a trembling Sam on the carpet.

"Sam, just let me see," Bobby was asking gently. Sam flinched every time Bobby almost touched him, biting his lip. The older hunter looked up at Dean for help.

He made his way into the room, throwing the crutches to the ground and crouching next to Sam.

Dean looked into his brother's eyes. "It's just me, Sam, okay?" Sam nodded and gave Bobby a look that clearly said to leave them alone.

Bobby nodded in understanding and left the two, deciding to wait in the hallway just in case he was needed again.

"Sammy..." Dean muttered, lifting his brother's shirt to check the healing bullet wound. "How are you doing?"

Sam stared at the ground and shrugged, but that wasn't good enough for Dean. "Sam, these nightmares. You know... you're safe now. No one's going to get you now. I promise. I'll never leave your side again if you don't want me to."

Sam was silent as he fingered the strings on his sweatpants. No one understood. He wasn't worried about himself. He knew Dean and Bobby and Dad would protect him. He was always safe with Dean.

Bobby hadn't heard a sound from the boys' room in ten minutes and he was starting to get worried. He heard the Impala's trunk slam closed and decided to talk to John again about the nightmares. They couldn't just sit here and do nothing.

Bobby cracked the bedroom door just enough to see the two brothers sleeping back to back. At least, Sam wasn't awake. Dean was facing the wall, but Bobby could just tell from his uneven breathing and tense posture that he wasn't falling asleep anytime soon.

**..ooOOoo..**

_Sam sat up and yawned. When did it get dark out? Dismissing it, he sat up and heard a creaking noise coming from somewhere in the room._

_Stupid motel rooms, he thought. Never repaired, always dirty... He got up and checked the whole room, too occupied to realize he was the only one in the room at all._

_Finally, Sam opened the bathroom door... and almost fainted. "No!" He cried. "NO! Please!" He dropped to his knees, the tears already running down his face._

_But Josh just grinned and let the droplets of blood from his knife fall to the white, cracked tiles as Dean swung bloody and lifeless from the shower curtain bar, his blank, green eyes staring hopelessly at his little brother._

**..ooOOoo..**

"Sam!" Dean was shaking Sam awake, immediately pulling him into a hug at the look of pure terror on the youngest's face.

Sam's breathing was unsteady as he tried to get the image out of his mind. He'd seen everything in those dreams. Dean swinging, Dean drowning, Dean falling five stories and breaking his neck... They never escaped him and sometimes just looking at a knife or a glass of water triggered a flashback. Then he would be quiet for another twenty minutes. He always tried to stay awake, 'cause sleep meant a new form of torture.

He knew he wasn't getting enough rest, but Dean couldn't even walk properly and Sam can barely make it downstairs without being hit with a wave of nausea, so how's he supposed to protect Dean?

"I need a shower." Sam mumbled, hoping the constant stream of water will somehow manage to wash away the pictures carved into his mind.

Dean nodded and offered to help, well aware Sam would say no anyway. He preferred to be alone more lately. Didn't even talk to Dad or Bobby much anymore.

He sighed and sat to sharpen his knife as he waited for Sam to finish.

****  
>"Hey," Dean looked up as Sam made his way back into the room, shirtless and covered in bruises.<p>

"Your stitches are looking good." He mentioned, avoiding the fact that the majority of cuts and bruises on the fifteen year old were results of tumbling out of bed after nightmares.

"Yeah." Sam replied simply, walking to his bag of clothes.

Dean decided to seize the moment. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna tell me what you dream about?"

Sam was silent and become very interested in getting the creases out of his shirt.

"You."

Dean stopped sharpening. "Me?"

"And Dad and Uncle Bobby sometimes, but mostly you." Sam gulped and his face had turned ashen as he thought back.

Dean gestured for Sam to sit next to him. "I-I don't wanna watch you die anymore, Dean." Sam whispered.

"Sammy, I will never leave you here alone. You understand? What kind of brother would I be if I just died? How irresponsible!" Sam smiled a little, forgetting momentarily the seriousness behind Dean's joking manner.

"Come on," He said, reaching for his crutches. "You hungry?"

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed, realizing how empty his stomach felt. He stood up, and so did Dean, groaning in annoyance as he reached for his crutches.

Sam fingered his soup, his hunger having disappeared almost instantly at the sight of the red liquid, too similar to... No. Dean was right next to him, not dead. Remember? He said he'd stay with you, so he will. Dean doesn't lie. Not to me.

**..ooOOoo..**

"Hey, Dean," John walked into the library as both his sons looked up from their place on the couch. "I'm gonna take a supply run. You guys good?"

Dean nodded, his mouth full of BLT. Bobby was off helping one of his friends named Rufus so Sam and Dean would be alone.

"I'll try to be back by dark." The father added, glancing at the already diminishing light in the window. He looked at Sam and leaned against the doorway.

"You doing okay, Sam? Nightmares? Anything?" Sam shook his head a little too quickly and John gave him a doubtful nod as he left the room.

**..ooOOoo..**

"Ready for bed, kiddo?" Dean asked. Sam's eyes were glued to the TV as his older brother finished redressing his cuts. "We'll take the stitches out tomorrow, okay?"

Sam agreed, slowly making his way up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

Dean sighed. His crutches were leaning against the stairwell across the room and he figured he could make it to the couch. He stood up on his good foot to take Sam's spot in front of the TV. It wasn't long before the drone of the old set put him into a well needed sleep.

**..ooOOoo..**

_"D-dean?" Sam called, shivering in his sleep shirt as he trudged barefoot through the alley._

_"Uncle Bobby? Dad?" He turned the corner, cursing as he fell in a puddle. A sickening feeling fell over the young boy as he realized how warm and sticky the puddle was._

_"Oh my god." Sam crawled over to the lifeless form, shaking not from cold anymore, but the constant flow of tears that fell on the mangled body of his older brother._

_"D-d-dean!" He stuttered, shaking the body. The murderer hadn't even bothered to take his knife and the way it just stuck up out of his chest made Sam want to throw up._

_Hugging the cold body to his chest, Sam looked up at the skyscrapers and the cold, black sky and screamed in despair._

_"DEEEEAAAAAN!"_

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean flipped off of the couch at the sound of the scream, cursing and crawling toward his crutches. "Sam!" He called as he put the bars under his armpits and swung to the stairs.

"Deeaan!" Sam was shrieking. "NO! Please, no! Dean!" The older brother finally made it to the top of the steps, trying to remain calm.

"Sammy!"

Sam was kneeling in the hallway. The bed's comforter was dragged halfway through the door as if it had fell off of Sam in his wild chase to the top of the stairs.

"Hey! Sam!" Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder, but the kid freaked out, shrinking away and reaching his own hand out to something invisible on the floor.

"Sammy..." Dean muttered, trying to pull him up by his arm. Sam's eyes were strangely vacant and a wave of relief washed over the hunter when he realized his brother must be sleepwalking.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." He said, grabbing Sam's hand.

"No!" Sam cried, staring in utter despair at the floor.

**..ooOOoo..**

_Sam had just been sitting there minding his own business with his dead brother when he felt the hand on his shoulder._

_Quickly, he pulled away, wrapping his arms around the one he'd called his hero and holding him close._

_The evil hand grabbed his, pulling him away from his grip of Dean. "No!" Sam cried, reaching out for the body as he was pulled away._

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean figured the best way to go about this was to lose the crutches. He dropped them to the floor and put a little weight on his braced foot.

"Let's get you to bed." He repeated, making another step towards Sam again. It was no use: the fifteen year old was getting stronger- and more stubborn- by the day and there was no way Maimed Dean was getting him anywhere.

Plan B.

"Sammy! Wake up." He shook his brother's shoulders, slightly panicked.

Limping into their bedroom, he grabbed the glass of water from the bedside table, biting the straw with his teeth and spitting it onto the ground as he returned. "Here goes nothing,"

He flicked the cup, splashing three quarters of the water and a couple ice cubes onto a suddenly very much awake and sputtering Sam, who looked up at Dean with wild eyes as if he'd seen a ghost (minus the shotgun).

"Dean..." He glanced at his big brother's stomach for a blood stain. "You're alive. I thought you'd left me."

Dean shook his head, trying to avoid his pounding heart and the look in Sam's eyes and his last comment.

And that's how John found them: kneeling on the second story floor, hugging, Sam soaking wet and shaking with racking sobs as Dean let a few tears escape his own wet eyes.

"I thought you'd left me." Sam whispered for the eleventh time.

"Never." Dean whispered back for the eleventh time. "Never."

**Next chapter next week! Hope you liked it! If you did, I love hearing from you! See you next week!**


	12. Chapter 12: Everybody Hurts

**Thank you guys so much for any reviews, favorites, or alerts. I really appreciate it. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter!**

Sam threw the towel to the ground and shook his matted, still wet, hair.

"Thanks, Dean." He said to the nineteen-year-old sitting on the quilted bed opposite his own.

Dean barely heard him, focused on something else. "Was it the same?" He asked, staring intensely out the dark window. "The dream? Did I..."

"Yes." Sam answered softly. "Stabbed."

A loud silence filled the room until Dean stood up and walked over to his little brother. He'd abandoned his crutches, feeling more confident with his brace. "When was the last time you slept? Like, really slept?"

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Before... Josh." Dean nodded. He thought so.

He checked the alarm clock. It was almost ten at night and as he made his way to the kitchen, Dean couldn't help but think about Sam's nightmares.

The house was dark and Dean hit his ankle against the doorway. Cursing, he stopped at the bottom cabinet. It creaked as it opened and Dean rummaged through the contents for a certain bottle of pills... There! And drowsy, too. Sam might actually get a good night's sleep.

He brought the contents back up quietly to their bedroom.

"Here, Sam." Sam was staring at Dean's favorite switchblade, lying on the table next to his jacket. "Sam?"

He jumped, hiding his thoughts in the true Winchester style and accepting the medicine gratefully before crawling under the sheets and checking to confirm that the knife Dad'd given him last year was behind his pillow.

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam yawned and stretched, sitting up tiredly as the light peeked in the shabby, lime green curtains of their latest motel room.

He chucked his pillow at the form on Dean's bed. "D'n! W'k up!" He flipped out of bed clumsily and trudged to the light switch.

Flicking it on, yellow light flooded the room as Sam stared in utter horror. His brother's bed was red- blood red. He let out a broken, guttural noise and rushed over to the mattress.

"De..." He flipped the body over, but it wasn't Dean. It was Dad.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." He checked for a pulse but it was useless. His father's throat was slit.

Grabbing his phone, Sam's fingers flew over the numbers.

**9. 1. 1**- A strange beeping noise emanated from the cell, and **"No Service"** filled the screen.

Sam dropped the phone, panicking. He was alone. All alone. "D-dean?" He heard nothing.

Maybe he's hiding from whatever got Dad. He opened the closet wide and stifled a scream as Bobby fell on top of him. Gasping for breath, he rolled his friend to his right and shook his shoulders hurriedly. "Uncle Bobby! Wake up!" Then he noticed the blood stain on Bobby's chest.

"No..." He whispered, his heart beating a mile a minute. "No... DEAN!" Sam jumped up, screaming his brother's name and stumbling to the front door.

Flipping open the door, he took one step out into the night. "Dean!" He called. "De-" Sam almost wished he hadn't found Dean. Then there was a chance he was alive, but the gunshot wound right above Dean's heart proved otherwise.

As he knelt down he let his tears fall free, for the first time feeling the full pain of losing Dad, Bobby, and Dean.

Caught up in the sadness, he almost failed to hear the rustle that came from the bushes. "H-hello?" He asked nervously.

A man stepped out of the brush and Sam was on the verge of asking for help when he realized who the man was. Josh- and he was holding a gun.

Sam's breathing hastened and he reluctantly left Dean's body. He was unarmed and helpless. He didn't even look back to see if Josh was following as he ran inside and crawled under the bed.

It was way too silent. He thought maybe it was a dream. He pinched himself. No luck.

Sam froze as the door creaked open and heavy footsteps broke the silence. Josh stepped over Bobby and Sam made a gross realization that the dent in the bed above him was his dead father.

Josh stomped into the bathroom and Sam breathed. But he felt someone watching him. Turning slowly, he was met with the blank, staring eyes of a bloody woman. Mom.

Sam accidentally let out a whimper, which was enough for Josh to return to the bedroom. God, just let him wake up!

"Sam... I _know_ you're in here." Crouching down, Josh peeked under the bed, grinning.

"Awww... Hiding with your mommy?" Sam was shaking as Josh cocked his pistol, aimed it at Sam's head, and pulled the trigger.

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean sped through town, thinking about the nightmare he'd forced Sam to tell him. And now here he was, thinking about Mom all over again. She could help if she were here. Hug Sam and tell him it was okay in that way only mothers could. Hell, he wouldn't mind a hug right now, either.

Dean pulled into the bar and parked, grabbing his fake I.D. and locking the car door behind him. Dad didn't know he was here. No one did. But Dean needed to drown out his sorrows and what was the best medicine? No, not laughter, just some top-shelf alcohol. Something with a kick.

He sat down at the bar and motioned the bartender.

"One whiskey." The man complied and Dean downed it, raising his hand for a second.

"Mister?" The bartender said politely when Dean asked for another. "You, uh, driving anywhere tonight?"

Dean nodded.

"I suggest you switch to beer. You look like you're gonna be here a while."

The nineteen-year-old took the bottle contentedly and took a swig, half the contents gone in one sip. He felt kinda funny and figured it was working.

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean stumbled to the front door, having barely managed to make it home without crashing, only because the thought of Dad's face if he wrecked the car scared him out of his drunkenness, even just for a minute.

Now he realized he'd been trying to get the key into the door's lock for a good five minutes. Eventually, he fit it in, turning the key and entering. He closed the door behind him softly, but it still rang out through the silent house.

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam was wide awake in his bed. All he knew was he'd heard a door shut downstairs, and Dean was missing. His fright was short-lived, as Dean reentered the room at that second, jostling furniture as he moved towards his bed.

He stopped and took one look at Sam, covers drawn to his eyes, and slurred, "Goshleepsmay." Before laying fully clothed onto his own bed.

Sam got up and pulled Dean's shoes off, tucked a blanket around him and shuffled back to his own bed, where he fell into a restless dream of dead brothers and empty beds.

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam sat up the next morning to Dean's bed empty yet again and he couldn't help but get a pit in his stomach at his brother's second absence in one night.

He stood up, the old twin bed creaking under his weight. The bedroom door was open and cracked too, a sliver of light escaping under the thin frame.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, and the sounds of panting inside were replaced by those of someone puking.

He nudged the door open to find Dean clutching the rim of the toilet seat with white knuckles, shaking heavily.

Sam knelt down beside his brother, putting a hand supportively on his back.

"'s okay, Dean." Sam soothed as the eldest retched, his ashen face transforming to a pale green.

When Dean couldn't even dry heave anymore, Sam guided him to his bed, placing a bucket on the floor beside him and making sure he was comfortable.

A glance at the clock told him it was close to three, so he climbed back into his own bed, laying awake and listening to Dean's breathing as it became more even as he fell asleep.

With sudden force, the bedroom door was slammed open, and the monster stepped right over the salt line. Sam didn't even have time to think, frozen in the horrors of the uncanny Deja vu as it dragged a petrified Dean from his bed.

**Oooooh, and you guys thought I couldn't leave cliffy's this close to the end of the story! If you thought the chapter was decent, review. If you thought it wasn't, don't. Just kidding. Criticism's always welcome. :)**


	13. 13: Nightmares, they'll kill us all

**SURPRISE! I couldn't keep this from you any longer! Happy reading:**

"No!" Sam stood up and grabbed his knife, but he didn't know what this thing was. "Put him down! I-I have a knife!" His hand shook with anger and fear as he held it up at the black mass holding a whimpering Dean.

"Sam. It's me." John announced gruffly. Sam's mouth dropped open and he flipped the light on. Sure enough, his father was holding Dean up by the shirt.

His older brother didn't look so good. His face was petrified with fear, pale and green, beads of sweat spotting his forehead.

"Dad, Dean's sick." Sam whispered. Dean gave him a grateful half-smile, not trusting his stomach to stay calm if opened his mouth.

"Yes, he is." John glared disapprovingly at his oldest. He let go of Dean, who fell weakly back onto the bed. "Follow me, Dean." He pushed past a bewildered Sam, crossed the hall, and descended the steps.

"Help?" Dean grimaced. Sam nodded, helping his brother to his feet, but Dean pulled away, quickly limp-running to the bathroom. Between retching, he could hear Dad calling him impatiently. I've done it now. He thought. When he was finished, Sam silently brought him to his feet, helping his shaking brother down the stairs to where their furious father was waiting.

"Care to tell me where you went last night?" John growled, gesturing out the front door to the Impala. Sam took a look and winced. Dean sure was in for it.

The front side was dented and there was something hanging off the bottom. Not to mention, the window was a little banged up, too.

John walked out to the car without a word, gesturing towards the two beer bottles in the passenger seat. "What? You hit a tree and drive away or something? Spill." The hunter's voice had gone to a whisper. Definitely not a good sign.

Dean mumbled. "I don't remember."

"What was that?"

"I don't remember what happened, sir."

John nodded, slamming his hand on the hood in frustration. "What were you thinking? You could've gotten hurt. Where would I be- where would Sammy be- without you, huh? Didja think about that? Soon as you stop puking everywhere I want you to come out here and pop out this dent. And anything else that got screwed up when you decided to DUI last night."

"Yessir." Dean bowed his head in shame.

"Go ahead and give it a nice wash, too."

"Yes, sir."

Sam helped him back to his bed without saying anything. Dean didn't have the flu, he had a hangover. Why? Did he drink all that for fun? Or was something on his mind?

"Nightmares." Dean called roughly from his spot on the bathroom floor a few minutes later. "They're gonna kill us all." Sam frowned.

**..ooOOoo..**

Dean jerked forward as he threw up, again.

"Shhhh..." Sam whispered, rubbing his hand on Dean's back. It was almost noon and Dad hadn't come up here once. Sam felt sorry for his older brother, despite John's feelings. "It's okay, Dean."

Dean's throat was raw and he thought he'd finally been able to keep some liquid down. Wrong. His head pounded with a massive headache and he didn't know why he'd drank so much last night.

The brothers sat there stiffly. Sam yawned, resting his head against the pile of towels behind him. In moments, he was asleep.

Dean finally let go of the toilet, gulped, and leaned against the wall. He glanced at Sam, dead asleep. He smiled. At least one of them was getting some rest. His smile turned to a frown when he remembered the car.

Sam began muttering, then cried out. "Dean!" He wailed. The older brother jostled him. "Sammy, wake up!"

He sighed in relief when Sam opened his eyes, clutching Dean's shirt tightly. "Sam, we've gotta do something about this. You still watching me die?" Sam nodded.

"Well," Dean groaned, putting his hand against his throbbing head. "I'm not dying. Really. So... You can stop having bad dreams."

Sam chuckled sadly. "Yeah, doubt it's that easy."

Dean got to his feet slowly. Sam followed him to the hallway. "Gonna get some Advil." Dean mumbled, taking the steps two at a time. God, his head hurt, but at least he'd stopped puking.

"Hello, sir." Dean said as he entered the kitchen. John grunted. "I'm going out. Bobby wants me to check out a book on philanthropy." Dean nodded, tipping his head back to swallow the pills.

"That car better be good as new when I get back." John warned, taking one more look at his son. "I'm taking one of Bobby's working cars." He looked over at Dean. It's not like John enjoyed disciplining his kids. But he was worried if he didn't treat them like hunters all the time, one day when they were out of practice something would kill them.

John chuckled. One time he'd asked Dean if he wanted to toss around a football. Dean'd laughed, said he wanted to get his training in before his date with the head cheerleader at ten and then gave him a funny look.

He'd also tried helping Sam with homework. The kid was in Algebra 2 in ninth grade and John couldn't figure one thing out. He offered to google it, or call a friend with more schooling, but Sam'd shook his head and muttered Christo.

"Alright, I'm taking off." He said, a little gentler and more sympathetic than before, earning himself a thoughtful look from Dean.

"Clean the car." He added sternly.

Dean cleared his throat and went upstairs. Sam was sitting on his bed. "Hey, Sammy." The fifteen-year-old looked up nervously as Dean glanced at the energy drinks stacked in the corner.

He lifted his eyebrows at Sam and received a shrug. "How are you feeling?" Sam asked, yawning.

Dean sighed. _Way to change the subject, Sam._ "I'm okay." Sam nodded.

"I'm, uh, gonna just... get some lunch. Want some? I think we got soup." Sam nodded as he cracked open another Five Hour Energy.

Dean pursed his lips. That kid needed sleep, he thought as he ran his hand down the rickety banister. Seriously. Then it hit him and he stopped momentarily on the second to last step.

When Dean was nine Dad wanted to go back to Lawrence, revisit where it'd all gone down, maybe get some new info.

He ended up thinking he found something. Dean remembered how excited Dad had been, the empty coffee cups and energy drinks littered their motel room. Then it disappeared, turned out to be nothing, just a lowlife demon. When Uncle Bobby called to check in, Sam answered.

_"Hey, Sammy, is Daddy there?"_

_"No."_

_"Where is he?"_

_"In da bafroom."_

_"Okay, tell him to call me when he gets out. Where's Dean?"_

_"He's wight hea."_

_"Can I talk to him?" God, it was hard to get answers from a five year old._

_"No."_

_"Why not, Sam?"_

_"'Cause he's cwying."_

_Bobby tensed up. "W-why's he crying, Sam?" Sam didn't answer, but he heard the muffled voice of the toddler asking his older brother the same question._

_"Sam?"_

_"I tink it's 'cause Daddy's cwying."_

Bobby almost dropped the phone. He drove all the way down there and took the three to his place. John wouldn't sleep, depressed and thinking about Mary 24/7. He'd agreed to take some sleeping drugs and they'd worked. He was out like a light- that is, until Sam clomped on him with his latest made-up game in mind and looking for a player.

He quickly put the can of tomato soup in the microwave and pulled out a bowl. It's for his own good, he thought as he crushed three of the pills. I promise, Sammy, you just need some good sleep.

He brought a glass of water and his soup mixture back upstairs, handing it to his brother without a word.

"Thanks," Sam smiled, and Dean regretted it for a moment as he watched Sam eat a few spoonfuls, but then he noticed the bags under Sam's eyes and the way he hunched over just made him _look_ exhausted.

Dean went downstairs and ate a quick burger (leftovers, but a burger's a burger) before hurrying upstairs to he and Sam's room happily to change to an old t-shirt for fixing the car.

Dean was actually feeling pretty good. Fall was upon them and a cool breeze filtered through an open window. Dean's headache was almost gone and he'd handled the food well. Plus, Sam would be getting some good sleep.

"Hey, Sam." He greeted as he entered the room.

"Hey, D'n." The nineteen-year-old looked up from his suitcase, glancing from the empty soup bowl to his brother, already nodding off. "M'n, 'm t'r'd." Dean nodded.

"Then take a nap." He stood up and took his shirt off, his well-shaped chest showing for a second before he pulled on an old black tee.

Sam shook his head drowsily, his eyelids drooping. "Nigh'm'res." His breathing became more even as Dean watched him slip into a peaceful sleep.

Dean got all the way to the garage before he realized he'd forgotten the keys in his room. How was he gonna clean the inside? He really didn't feel like picking any locks right now.

His mood just seemed to get crappier as he slipped on that one step Bobby kept saying he'd fix, but Dean'd landed on it with his bad foot and it hurt like hell. To top things off, he trudged into the quiet room only to trip on Sam's stuff and ended up looking like a loser while he was flailing his arms and pretty much landed right on Sam's side where he'd been shot, what seemed like forever ago.

"Sorry, Sam, but maybe if you mov-" He stopped. Why wasn't Sam yelling at him right now, or at least screaming in pain?

"Sam?" He whispered, nudging his brother. Sam didn't respond.

Dean shook him harder, but Sam's head rolled back and forth limply.

"S-S-Sammy?" He whispered. "Wake up!" He pulled his brother up and grabbed him roughly, but gently by the shoulders.

"Wake up, come on, wake up." Dean's hands shook as he felt for and found the feeble heart-beat. _No, no, no,_ he thought. _Not us, no thanks, we've had our share of bad luck._

He grabbed Sam and pulled him close. His brother's arms dangled limply and Dean knew deep down the only thing keeping his unconscious, unresponsive brother from falling back was his own hold on Sam's sweatshirt. It was too much. This was not happening. "Wake up, Sam!" He screamed in his little brother's ear.

"SAMMY!" He put his hands over his own moist, bloodshot eyes and Sam fell back, his head turned awkwardly sideways, rolling limply off the bed like a ragdoll. He landed on the carpet with a sickening thud.

Dean fainted.

**I hope you liked it! :) I don't know if I'll add on Saturday or Sunday, but it's likely. I've been writing the next chapter nonstop. Until then, review if you liked it and I'll try to update as soon as possible.**


	14. Chapter 14: This Is The End

**Here we go guys, the last chapter. I hope you had just as much fun reading the story as I did writing it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorite story'd, alerted, or anything else. I really appreciate it.**

John remembered the anger he felt when he came home and found the car unchanged. He remembered the fear he felt when he found his boys unconscious. He remembered calling Bobby and then waking Dean up. He remembered not being able to awaken his youngest.

This is what he remembered. Everything else seemed like a dazed blur.

"Dean!" Dad was shaking his shoulders, a solemn look in his eyes. "What happened?" But Dean couldn't speak, couldn't find the words.

He watched from the bed as his father tapped Sam, then a little harder, until he was shaking his son, trying to wake him up.

Finally giving up, John laid him out and tried to decide to call the ambulance or just a doctor. He was scared. They couldn't afford another hospital run. They'd asked him too many questions.

"Dean. Call Grace. Now." They could decide on what she had to say. Dean nodded, turned to his feet, and rushed out. John checked Sam's pulse again. Steady, but slow. He looked like he was sleeping.

He picked Sam up and placed him on the bed, pulling the covers up and tucked him in, a job Dean had perfected over the years.

"She'll be here as soon as possible." Dean said from the doorway. John looked up and nodded with sad eyes. "Dean? What. Happened."

The boy grew pale. This was what he'd been avoiding. Sinking down to the floor, he leaned against Sam's bed, elbows on his knees.

"I didn't _know._" He whispered almost inaudibly. "I didn't _know._"

"Didn't know what?"

"He was tired! He needed sleep! I... gave him a few of those sleeping pills." John had been tapping his jittery fingers against the wood of the baseboard, but he ceased at Dean's words.

"_Three?_"

Dean nodded.

The only thing worse than Dad screaming at you when you did sometime wrong was Dad speechless. Now the hunter sat still, deep in contemplation.

"D-dad?" He didn't answer, just squeezed his eyes shut and asked for some aspirin.

"Sam's gonna be okay, right?"

John looked at Dean, the worry evident in his eldest's green eyes.

"Of course." John was the best lier Dean knew, but the doubt was emanating off of the usually confident father as he answered.

"Yeah, sure." Dean's response was strained with exhaustion and anxiety, and as John left the room, mumbling something about a headache, Dean sat in his place.

He stared at his sleeping brother for a second, then shook him one more time. "Come on, Sammy, wake up for me."

Nothing, of course. Dean sighed and inched himself onto the bed next to his brother, situating himself so they were back to back. If Sam woke up, he'd know.

**..ooOOoo..**

The doorbell rang and John answered hurriedly, ushering the young woman upstairs. She stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to do about the sleeping pair on the bed furthest from the door.

"Come on in," John said seriously, breaking the silence and motioning for her to get closer.

"Umm... Which one is..." She pointed at the boys.

"Oh! My Sammy, right here." He shook Dean's shoulder and the teen startled awake.

"Wha- oh, hi." Dean blushed and sat up, but didn't budge from his point on Sam's right side.

"How long's he been like this?" She asked, pulling tools out of her bag.

"Not long." Dean answered. "Twenty minutes? Is he okay?" Grace smiled and Dean couldn't help but wonder how she could be so calm during such a nerve-racking time for Dean and John.

"I don't know. But if it's like you said on the phone, Dean, patients with overdose usually come to fairly quickly."

"You serious?" Dean asked hopefully.

"As a heart attack. Sam certainly won't wake up today, but if he's truly comatose like I think he is, then more like in this week at the least and next at the most. He seems to be able to breathe on his own, that's great..." She was talking more to herself now, as she ways did when she was nervous. Her husband, Henry, said it was a bad habit, but she thought it actually comforted the patients and their family.

"I brought an IV, just in case you guys didn't, you know, want to visit the hospital. I know hunters." John nodded slightly, gratefully.

"There doesn't seem to be any head trauma," She added, turning his head slightly. "You said he didn't respond to stimuli?" She was looking at Dean again.

He said yes.

Grace took her time, performing a multitude of tests, including banging Sam's knee with a hammer, whatever that was for, Dean thought.

Finally, she looked up, as did John. Dean was watching her hopefully. "Well, it's such a low-scale coma, it almost isn't one. You're very lucky." Dean breathed out in relief.

"Sam's in a state kinda like a vegetative state- but not quite. Vegetative states are usually long lasting and caused by trauma. He'll be okay but... John, why don't we talk about this... in the hallway." She gave Dean a sympathetic look and John eyed him when he opened his mouth to protest.

"It's okay, its nothing bad, I just want to go into more detail with your dad. I figured you wanted some alone time with your brother, anyway." Grace smiled as John closed the door behind them.

Dean sat in silence for a minute, but quiet had always made him uncomfortable.

"Sammy, I know you can't hear me, but I'm going to talk anyway, because I hate peace and quiet, but you know that, don't you? AC/DC, Metallica, anything loud."

He stopped, ran his hand through his short hair. "My first girlfriend loved Styx. Don't ask me why, but she had a thing for rock... Remember your first girlfriend, Sammy? Well, the first one I knew about anyway, 'cause dude, I'd never tell you this in person, but you looked like a pro."

He was rambling on, settling his nerves. "Turned the corner outside the gym and- boom! You and Rachel Reed..." Dean chuckled. "You were all over her. But you were so... I dunno... like, a gentleman about it."

Dean leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, just for a second, but when he opened them again, John was sitting in a rolling chair to Sam's left and it was dark out.

"W't time's it?" Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Almost eight. You slept like a rock."

Dean gave him a dry smile.

"Still worried, huh, kiddo?" John asked, the painful way in which he looked at his youngest obvious to the nineteen-year-old. He moved his head stiffly up and down.

"Don't worry. Sam's a strong boy. Just like you. He's clever and strong and I know he'll fight through whatever's going through his melon right now."

"But, what if-"

"What if he doesn't wake up? Sammy'll wake up, no matter what. He's stubborn, but sometimes stubborn's good."

Dean gulped. "What if he's having a nightmare right now?"

"Hopefully, he isn't, 'cause he should know that you and I both know he's got our backs. He needs to understand it's a two way street. We both know he'll protect us just as well as we protect him. That's what Winchesters do. And Sam's a damn good example of a Winchester if I've ever seen one."

Sam sat listening to everything his dad said. Grace'd called it "conscious but unresponsive," but Sam didn't know she'd told John that his son was most likely listening.

It wasn't until later that Sam realized John'd known he was conscious- and that he'd wanted Sam to hear every word he'd said.

That night, Dean slept next to Sam and John took the other bed.

Dean couldn't help but think about Sam's nightmares. Is he having one right now? What if his nightmare lasted for two weeks? _Don't worry, Sammy, you'll wake up soon._The steady drip of the IV lulled him to sleep.

**..ooOOoo..**

Sam was in an empty room. He'd been here all day. Whatever this was that Grace had said, a coma, he found that he could hear everything, but couldn't move.

This made for a freaky experience, like when Dean had first fallen on his bullet wound. He could've screamed, yet he really couldn't have.

And when he'd fallen off the bed? He went to put his hands out but there was just numbness. He was helpless.

Now, he was trapped in this never-ending nightmare. Whenever someone started talking, it echoed through his dreams like an intercom.

But at night, no one spoke, and his family's deaths seemed as real as the IV John had stuck into his arm.

Sam was so busy thinking he didn't even hear the man sneak up behind him. He was grabbed roughly from behind and he cried out for help. The man overpowered him, and he was quickly tied up, stuck laying in an awkward position on the dirty carpet floor.

"Welcome to the carnival, Sam!" Josh hissed. "First up in the freak show?" He called, and one of his buddies came out with an unconscious Dean. He was heavily duct taped to the wall, his hands and arms spread out like a star.

Then the cutting began. Dean's screams filled his ears as the blood collected on the white flooring underneath him.

"Stop! STOP!" Sam screamed, resulting in a crude man stuffing a towel in his mouth.

Sam was crying as Dean was thrown to the side like a doll.

"NEXT!" Sam looked up as Josh dragged in his next victim- Mom.

**..ooOOoo..**

The next four days, Dean barely left Sam's side. Neither did John, except to get food or use the bathroom. Sometimes he went downstairs to have a drink alone, but Dean didn't question his ways. To each his own.

"You awake?" Dean sat up to see Bobby peering in the doorway. He'd come back two days ago, let another hunter take his case and everything. Shows you how much Uncle Bobby thinks about family, Dean thought.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled.

"Come get some food. Your daddy's downstairs, too." When Dean shuffled down the steps, he found John nursing a beer at Bobby's desk and reading the paper.

"Hey, Dean."

"Hey."

"Any changes?"

"No."

Every morning it was the same thing, and the answer was always no. As if I wouldn't tell him if there were changes.

After a quick breakfast of cereal and almost expired milk, Dean checked in on Sammy before showering.

The water was soothing, a kind of escape from the turmoil his life had become. He turned the water off and opened the curtain, reaching for his towel. Dean looked up and jumped, snatching his towel and tying it around his waist.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy, just about gave me a hear- Sammy!" His brother was leaning against the vanity, his face pale and scared.

"I called for you, but you didn't answer. Then I couldn't find Mom or Dad." Dean opened his mouth but no words came out.

"L-let's get you to bed." He choked out, guiding Sam to their room, putting him in bed, where he instantly fell back asleep.

Dean froze for a moment, worried he'd slipped back into unconsciousness, but his little brother soon turned on his side, assuring Dean he was fine.

After quickly slipping on some clothes, he ran downstairs and out the backdoor to where Bobby and John were digging a grave. Dean didn't stop to question the matter, didn't have time.

"Sam's awake!" He huffed, and John looked up at him in amazement."But, he asked where 'Mom and Dad' are."

Dean followed his father to the bedroom, where the man carefully shook his son awake.

"Yes?" Sam asked, as polite as if he answered a business call.

"Sammy?"

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"You just said it yourself!" The fifteen-year-old laughed.

"Would you remind me?"

"It's Sammy. Sam. I guess." John sighed, began to say something, but Dean interrupted. "Sam what?"

The boy looked genuinely stumped, thinking hard before shrugging and flipping on his side to fall back asleep.

"I called Grace." Bobby announced from the doorway. "She's coming to checking on him."

The older hunter looked over at Dean, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"What's with you?" He asked, but Dean couldn't put into words the sensation was feeling. Sam was okay, Dean told himself. He was awake and that was a a start.

**..ooOOoo..**

"Well?" Bobby spoke up, when Grave came back out. He caught a glimpse of Sam and Dean talking before the door closed behind her.

"Actually? He seems okay. No permanent damage, just a little post-coma confusion." She smiled, grabbing her purse. "I'll check in, but he should be okay in the next couple of weeks, just a little tired."

"Hasn't he gotten enough sleep?" Bobby muttered bitterly as Grace walked to her car.

He heard laughing from upstairs, something he hadn't heard in a long time. He could pick out the individual voices- between Sam's energetic laugh, and Dean's lighthearted chuckle. And, if he listened close enough, the muffled sound of John's booming laugh traveled down the stairwell, too.

**ONE WEEK LATER**

Sam shuffled through Bobby's to the back door, where he heard noises coming from behind the house. Something clattered to the ground and Sam decided to investigate.

"Dean?"

His older brother rolled out from under the car, dirty and greasy.

"Sammy? What are you doing out here! You're supposed to be resting!" Sam shrugged. "I feel okay." Dean frowned, muttered something about rest, and coasted back under the car. "Well, Dad should be home with food soon so if you- _SON OF A..._"

Dean crawled back out from under the Impala and Sam gasped at the blood flowing from his right arm. The older brother sat against the hood, tipping his head back and grimacing.

"Dean?" Sam stepped cautiously towards his ashen, pain-stricken brother. "Are you okay?" He glanced at the blood seeping through the fingers of Dean's left hand- a futile attempt to stench the flow. "Stitches, Sammy. Gonna need some stitches."

Sam nodded, dazed, as he opened the car door and reached into the glove compartment for the emergency kit. Unlike the average Boy Scout First Aid, it included everything from silver bullets to a needle and thread, which Sam snatched hurriedly, along with some disinfectant.

He'd never stitched anything before, but he'd watched Dean stitch Dad once after a werewolf had clawed him right on the shoulder. But now Dean needed him to do it. No way he could stitch himself up with his left hand.

Dean hissed as Sam wiped the cut clean. "Sorry..." Sam mumbled, focusing on the task at hand.

Starting on the end, he pressed the needle into the skin, sewing one stitch after another. "Easy does it," Dean muttered as Sam pulled the needle through again. The fifteen-year-old stopped to wipe the accumulating blood away before continuing. The blood flow lessened and lessened until, eight messy stitches later, it became a steady trickle.

Dean was calming down, but groaned softly as Sam disinfected it again.

"Bandages!" Sam said, rifling through the first aid kit. He unraveled the white fabric across Dean's arm gently as possible, his hands shaking like mad.

"Th-there." He stuttered, wiping his bloody hands off with a towel. Dean did the same, pushing aside the used tools and putting his arm around his brother.

"Nice job," Dean flexed his fingers. "You saved me, ya hero." He smiled, ruffling Sam's hair. "Now, what do you say we fix up this car, huh?"

"But-"

"Nah, my hand's fine, Sammy, come on!" Dean lied. Sam shrugged, Dean's words running through his head. He did save Dean. _He_ saved _Dean_. Sam smiled and crouched down to hand a socket wrench under to his big brother.

As far as Sam was concerned, Dean was his responsibility- just as much as he was Dean's. There'd be plenty of opportunities to save his brother's life again. No more nightmares, he promised himself, no more sleepless nights. If he's going to be saving Dean's life all the time, he's gotta be on the ball all day. So yeah, he thought, he could definitely get used to the whole "Two Way Street" idea.

**The End. I hoped you guys liked this story. Please review if you liked it! You guys are great and I love writing stories on here... and I've already got another idea. ;)**


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